


The Sound of Silence

by sky_reid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Big Bang Challenge, Community: paperlegends, Deaf Character, Disability, Fluff, I'M GONNA, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Switching, a lot of it, but there is sex, elements of d/s, lancelot charms the pants off everyone, merlin is not a damsel in distress who can't deal with his disability, morgana is done with everyone's shit, some insecurity, some jealousy, stop talking now, the author regrets things, the typical - Freeform, this is actually really a happy fic, this is not a fic about sex i swear, well it's a not-sad fic, what are you doing to my tags ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Arthur, whose work revolves around improving sound, living in silence is unimaginable. For Merlin, living in silence is a fact of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> y'all know where the title is from, don't pretend
> 
> this is my second big bang this year, and i managed to finish it, can i hear a hallelujah
> 
> on a more serious note, huge huge thanks to the_muppet who organizes (or rather, organized) this whole thing, to beth, mims, aino and everyone else who's had to endure me for the past few months, and most importantly to my beta, kay, and my artist, mathilde; kay, you are the light of my life i swear, thank you for existing; mathilde, you've been the most amazing to work with and your art is adorable (and everyone should [see it](http://cymeteria-pencils.tumblr.com/post/59601575210/title-the-sound-of-silence-author-sky-reid)), and i'm so happy to have worked with you and i'm sorry i'm absolute shit at time management
> 
> right well, i should let you all get to reading things that are not my ranting at 1 in the morning so i'mma shut it now

 

_The Sound of Silence_

 

 

 

The meeting is a disaster. Arthur knows _Camelot_ has better equipment than _Essetir_ , he fucking knows it, he's seen _Essetir_ 's speakerphones and they're falling apart and he knows his are better. But ultimately, it's not his call. And the band wanted _Essetir_. He wonders what it was that Cenred did to convince them to pick his company.

 

It takes everything out of him not to shut the door to the conference room when he leaves. He stands by the door for a minute, turning on his phone and checking his watch for something to do as he gets himself together. He finds the floor very interesting as he walks back to his office.

 

Except, someone is already there. Arthur stands at the door and cocks his head to the side. _Someone_ is in his office. He's sitting in one of the chairs across from Arthur's own and he doesn't seem to be doing anything there really – he's not touching anything on Arthur's desk, he's not playing with the chair, he's not examining the office. But he's _there_ and Arthur is pretty sure he hasn't let him in. In fact, he's pretty sure he doesn't even know who the fuck the guy is.

 

He takes a deep breath. “Who are you?” he asks as calmly as he can. He can feel a headache forming between his temples. There's no reply. “Hello! Who the hell are you?” he repeats, louder this time. He walks into the office and drops his briefcase on the coffee table to the side of the door. “What the fuck is your problem?” he finally snaps. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here!?” With every word leaving his mouth, Arthur is more and more aware of how his head is pulsing. He hopes to god this guy is not a potential client, because he is so done with this entire day, he just can't stand to be fake polite anymore. And it's only 11 in the morning, too. “What are you, like, deaf?” he spits, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

 

“Yes, actually, that's exactly what he is.”

 

Arthur turns around, surprised to hear Morgana's voice. Then the words register. It must show on his face because Morgana laughs. She doesn't sound mad, just amused.

 

“Don't worry, he won't be offended,” she jokes.

 

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Had to go for the obvious?” She flashes him a smile as she approaches. He hugs her tightly, burying his face in her neck. She smells amazing, a fresh, herbal aroma. His headache subsides a little. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in France for that magazine shoot?”

 

“Oh Arthur, you always have been shit with dates,” she laughs.

 

She pats his cheek gently before turning the empty chair next to the guy Arthur yelled at for apparently no reason and to definitely no effect, and sitting down. The guy turns to her and smiles. Arthur's never seen him before. Morgana waves him towards his own chair and Arthur is suddenly reminded of their childhood, when Morgana loved to play the age card to make him pretend to have a tea party with her. He laughs to himself, unbuttons his jacket and sits down. The guy smiles at him as well and reaches out over the desk.

 

“Merlin, nice to meet you,” he says brightly.

 

“Arthur,” Arthur answers, shaking the guy's hand. He's tall and pale, dark-haired and light-eyed and atypically attractive and exactly Morgana's type. Arthur should've guessed.

 

“Merlin is my new assistant,” Morgana explains.

 

Arthur snorts. “You don't _need_ an assistant!”

 

“Correction: I've never _had_ an assistant,” she replies with a wicked grin. Arthur knows when to let it go. This is not one of those times.

 

“You are the Gordon Ramsay of marketing, Morgana, all you could possibly need is someone to carry your bags!” he contradicts. “And he, no offence,” he adds, turning to Merlin, “he doesn't look like someone you'd hire to do that.”

 

“None taken,” Merlin throws in, surprising Arthur who didn't expect a reaction.

 

“Merlin is finishing visual arts, he's creative, he's intelligent, he's good with people. I want someone like him working on my side,” Morgana says, putting her professional voice to good use. Arthur knows how she gets when she wants something, and this is it; he doesn't like being on the opposite side of the desk from her when she is doing serious business, and she clearly thinks this _is_ serious business. “Uther left this company to the both of us. Now, I've stayed out of your way when it comes to management, but you've always trusted me with the face of the company in the public and I am telling you – you want Merlin to join us.”

 

Arthur sighs. He hates it when Morgana is right, it's a sibling thing, but he hates it even more when she is right with a good reason. “Fine,” he agrees, “I'll have his contract ready tomorrow.”

 

“No need, I already have it,” she interrupts before he can say anything else. She's back to her usual tone and has a wide smile on her face, which scares Arthur a little. Sometimes he is really glad she's working with him and not against him. It occurs to him, not for the first time, that Morgana doesn't actually have a contract with _him_. He shrugs it off. His headache was just beginning to dull down. She hands him a contract, already signed on one side in a messy scrawl with tall letters pushed together almost to the point of being a single line. Arthur signs on the other side.

 

“Here you are,” he announces, handing the contract back to Morgana. “Welcome to _Camelot_ , I hope you will be happy working for us,” he says to Merlin, giving him the speech tiredly. Merlin looks at him the entire time he's speaking, his eyes not meeting Arthur's, but staying on Arthur's mouth. Arthur is momentarily confused before he realizes Merlin is reading his lips.

 

“Thank you,” he replies when Arthur is done. One side of his mouth twitches a little higher than the other when he looks Arthur in the eye. Arthur can't help smiling back. His headache is starting to fade again.

 

“Good, now that that's settled,” Morgana says, straightening her dress and bringing Arthur's attention back to her, “I think it's safe to assume we lost the deal with _Hellstage_?” She makes it sound like it's a question, but Arthur knows she can tell from his mood that the meeting didn't go well. “You're going to need more media coverage, Arthur. We need something to put us on the map internationally, come on, _Essetir_ is killing us.”

 

Arthur sighs. There she goes again, being right. “I suppose you have an idea, then?” It sounds just a bit more annoyed than he really is. He rubs his temples. His headache is now coming back full force.

 

“Hmm, not yet, actually. But Merlin and I,” she specifically stresses Merlin's name with a sweet smile in his direction, “will be working on it. We'll get back to you soon,” she promises. She puts a hand on Merlin's forearm to get his attention and gestures toward the office door. Arthur only realizes then that Merlin wasn't even looking at her to figure out what she was saying. The kid must really trust her.

 

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” Merlin says before he leaves, shaking Arthur's hand again. Arthur is impressed by his balls – calling his boss by his first name mere minutes after meeting him is not standard practice to Arthur's knowledge.

 

Arthur watches them leave. They stand by the elevator, waiting and he can see Morgana gesticulating wildly, in an uncharacteristically good mood, and point at him every once in a while. Merlin is laughing; at first it's just a few nods and wide smiles, but then he has to cover his mouth with his hand and then he eventually just laughs, head thrown back and throat exposed, seemingly giving up on keeping it in. Arthur figures they're talking about him, but he doesn't mind. It's rare to see Morgana so carefree and anyone who can bring that side of her out again is someone Arthur can tolerate, no matter what. And besides, Merlin seems like a good fit for her. They look like a good couple.

 

~*~

 

Arthur is not even done checking his schedule when there's a knock on his door. “Yes?” he calls out, not looking up from his plan book. He assumes it's just Freya, bringing him the earnings reports he asked for, but then the knocking happens again and there is no way Freya would ever knock twice when she usually doesn't even bother waiting for him to respond to her first knock. He looks up. Merlin is standing by the glass door leading into Arthur's office, looking a bit confused. Arthur waves him in.

 

“Sorry, I assume you replied when I first knocked, but I wasn't sure so I knocked again,” he says immediately.

 

Arthur has never felt more awkward talking to someone who is supposed to be his employee. He has a strong urge to apologize, but at the same time, he has a feeling that might actually make the situation worse. He curses his lack of experience in dealing with people with any kind of a disability – he's not sure whether Merlin would think it was polite if Arthur treated him differently and be grateful, or if he would be enraged by special treatment and find it offensive. In the end, Merlin takes the immediate choice out of his hands. He doesn't react to Arthur's discomfort, quickly moving the conversation forward. Arthur can see why Morgana said he was good with people.

 

“So, Morgana and I have been talking,” he declares in a tone that almost sounds professional (or at least would sound professional if Merlin looked a little older and a little more like he belonged in an office instead of wearing colourful scarfs and plaid shirts), “and she figures she can get your sound boosters and mics featured in a few unrelated commercials, so that should help. But we should also do some ads ourselves, and I have a few ideas.” Merlin takes a small folder out of his messenger bag and opens it on the desk in front of Arthur. “They're just rough sketches,” he says, almost apologetically.

 

The folder contains three sheets of papers, all of different sizes, one of them has clearly been folded and unfolded multiple times. They're just line drawings, simple and unsophisticated and unfinished. One of them has colours written into different areas and is exactly what he'd expect from Merlin – artsy and vibrant and fresh, the other surprises him in its simple, understated elegance and the third one is literally just a bad pun ( _don't be_ deaf _eated by bad equipment – good sound is_ ear _replaceable_ ) that makes Arthur laugh, especially when he notices that Merlin appears a bit embarrassed by it. He looks up at Merlin, mildly impressed.

 

“Yeah?” Merlin asks, grinning. He's like a puppy, so excited and happy to be praised. Arthur is amused, despite himself. He makes a mental note not to send Merlin to any meeting unattended, though.

 

“All right, I'll think about this,” he says.

 

Merlin nods, stands up from where he was leaning over the desk and nods again. “Sorry, I... This is my first job like this, so, um, I'm not sure what happens next.”

 

“I'll pick one of these and let you know which it is so you can... refine it,” he replies, still looking down at the sketches. Then he realizes Merlin can't hear him. He raises his head to, sure enough, find Merlin looking at him expectantly. “I'll let you know soon which one to work on,” he repeats.

 

“Oh, okay,” Merlin agrees. “Well, I'll go now then.”

 

“Have a nice day,” Arthur says, waving Merlin out. When Merlin closes the glass door behind him, he waves at Arthur with a huge grin plastered on his face. Arthur shakes his head, already distracted by his daily schedule again. He wonders distantly how long it will be before the cut-throat corporate business dampens Merlin's contagious enthusiasm.

 

~*~

 

Arthur drops his keys into the bowl on the dresser in the hallway. Morgana's raincoat is hanging next to his.

 

“Morg?” he calls out into the living room. There's no response.

 

He takes off his shoes and puts them away. He loosens his tie as he walks to the kitchen. He has a glass of water before heading upstairs. He's in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, when he passes Morgana's room. Someone's there, Arthur can hear Morgana talking to them, but he doesn't knock. He goes to change into something more casual first.

 

When he emerges from his room some 15 minutes later, freshly showered and wearing a faded grey tracksuit and a threadbare black t-shirt, Morgana and her guest have moved downstairs to the living area and the TV is on.

 

Arthur leans over the railing to find Morgana and Gwen sitting in the little white sofa in front of the TV, talking animatedly. “Hello, Gwen,” he calls out, makes a pause, then adds, “Morgana.”

 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Morgana replies, not even looking away from the screen.

 

“Hello, Arthur,” Gwen says, looking up and smiling. Arthur smiles back. He quickly descends down the stairs, his bare feet making barely any sound. He can feel Gwen's eyes on him as he heads to the kitchen.

 

“Is there any food?” he remembers to yell before opening the fridge.

 

“Well, if you make it, there will be,” Morgana calls. She practically sings it and Arthur just _knows_ she was planning on him cooking. He's hungry, so it's not a bad plan per se, but he's also tired and in a mood to contradict anything Morgana wants, so he decides to just pop some popcorns in the microwave. He grabs a beer from the fridge.

 

“Beer, ladies?” he asks, taking a mental inventory of the fridge. They really need to go grocery shopping.

 

He hears Gwen's “None for me, thanks!” almost at the same time when Morgana says, “I'll have one!” They laugh to themselves as he grabs another bottle, then closes the fridge.

 

Morgana is not amused by his solution to their lack of an evening meal. “You don't deserve it,” she grouches when he motions for her to scoot over, but she does it anyway.

 

He settles in between them. Morgana grabs a fistful of popcorn, spilling a few on Arthur's lap. Gwen, on the other hand scoots closer and leans against his arm.

 

“What are we watching?” Arthur asks. He's long ago learnt that arguing with Morgana about the remote never ends well for him.

 

“ _Police Women of Broward County_ ,” Gwen says, picking popcorn up from Arthur's chest.

 

“This one idiot of a woman just said the weed in her fucking _bra_ was blown there by the wind!” Morgana informs him, waving her arms around exaggeratedly. “Like, how stupid can you get?” Gwen shakes her head with a smile.

 

Arthur feels like he will never know how on earth Gwen and Morgana became such close friends, being as different as they are. However it happened, Arthur is glad. He loves Gwen like another sister. He just wishes he hadn't had to date her to figure that out. They've both moved past it by now, it was years ago after all, but Gwen sometimes still gives him these _looks_ that make him feel _so_ guilty for breaking up with her. She's always been understanding, she's always said she didn't mind being his 'straight experimentation phase', but sometimes Arthur still can't get out of his own head over it.

 

“Oh come on, dude, in which universe were you gonna be able to outrun all of them!” Morgana yells, throwing a popcorn at the screen. Gwen laughs and Arthur just shakes his head. He slides a little lower in his seat until he's half lying down. The plastic bowl of popcorn is still warm where it rests on his stomach. He watches deputy Ana Murillo patrol the streets with mild interest while Gwen mostly tries to provoke Morgana into animated commentary. Arthur starts to drift off.

 

~*~

 

Merlin is 6 minutes late to his scheduled meeting, but Arthur decides to forgive him when he sees him in a suit. It's navy blue with thin grey stripes and Merlin looks so uncomfortable in it that Arthur has to laugh. He's suddenly very glad he let Morgana convince him to keep the meeting private just between him and Merlin.

 

“Oh shut up,” Merlin says under his breath. Arthur laughs even harder. Merlin rolls his eyes and waits it out. By the time Arthur is getting himself under control, Merlin is smiling as well.

 

“All right, show me.”

 

Merlin takes the large carton cut-out out of its paper confines and hands it to Arthur. The colours are more pastel than Arthur expected them to be and the entire thing looks a lot less like a child drew it and a lot more like a very chic, jazzy, groovy poster. Arthur nods appraisingly.

 

“I take it you like it,” Merlin comments.

 

“Yeah, it looks very—“ Arthur catches himself just in time and remembers to look up. “It looks like something that would make me wanna go to the nearest store and get that mic,” he says honestly, surprising even himself with how much he really means it.

 

The reaction that Merlin rewards him with is something Arthur memorizes for cheering up on any future bad days. Merlin smiles and nods, then sits down like his legs can't keep him standing any longer.

 

Arthur puts the cardboard aside, placing it against his desk face up so he can still see it. He leans forward, his arms on the desk, fingers interlaced. Merlin looks up. “Well done,” Arthur tells him.

 

For what feels like a very long time, Merlin doesn't react. He just looks at Arthur like he's not really sure Arthur is even real; his eyes are shining and his lips are parted and Arthur immediately feels like he has to force himself to stop looking. He sits back in his chair and looks at the poster for the ad again for something to do.

 

“Arthur?” Merlin says. When Arthur looks up, he find that it's Merlin who's leaning on his desk now. He looks a weird mix of determinedly serious and nervously giddy. “I just wanted to say...” He takes a deep breath. “I want to thank you.”

 

“What for?” Arthur asks, genuinely confused.

 

“I'm an artist. I've always thought of myself as an artist. And I mean, we both know that most people don't live off their art. And, well, you have given me the opportunity to do just that. And just... thank you.”

 

Arthur doesn't know what to say to that. He feels like Merlin has just told him something important, something that means a lot to him and Arthur appreciates that. He wishes he knew how to express that without being completely inappropriate and unprofessional.

 

“It's a pleasure,” he ends up saying weakly. It seems to be enough for Merlin, though.

 

“It really is,” he replies. “See you around!”

 

Arthur almost says something to stop him, but then he remembers Merlin is Morgana's boyfriend, Morgana's assistant, Morgana's little pet talent. He watches Merlin leave and hopes Freya doesn't notice he's checking him out. The suit actually looks very good on him, despite his obvious discomfort.

 

He gets back to the sales figures he was reading before Merlin came in. It's difficult to get Merlin out of his mind, but he does his best to convince himself that Merlin is off limits. He's not even sure what it is about Merlin that gets under his skin. He decides to think it's because Morgana likes him and because that automatically makes Arthur want him even more.

 

He stands up, buttons his jacket and straightens it. He picks up the poster and heads to the board meeting, confident in his solution for their dropping sales.

 

~*~

 

“I invited Merlin to join us.”

 

Arthur hisses when the tip of the knife just bites at the thin skin on his thumb. He lets go of the knife and the pepper he's dicing immediately, puts his thumb in his mouth and sucks hard. It stings.

 

“I hope you don't mind? Are you all right over there?” Morgana asks from the dining area where she is setting the table, adding a fifth chair and plate.

 

Arthur can taste the blood in his mouth. He takes a napkin from a drawer behind him and wraps it around his thumb. “Um. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I don't mind Merlin coming over,” he says. His heart is beating a little faster.

 

“Good! Well, then you also won't mind that Elyan couldn't make it, so I told Merlin he could bring a friend.”

 

Arthur bites the inside of his cheek and glares at Morgana over the island separating the kitchen from the dining room. “You just love springing this shit up on me last minute, don't you?”

 

“A little bit,” she admits with a grin. When she looks at him over a wine glass she's putting down, however, and notices the bloody napkin around his finger, her face goes blank. “Oh my god. Are you all right?”

 

“I'm fine, really,” he assures her, removing the napkin to show her that the cut has stopped bleeding. She relaxes instantly. Ever since their father died, Morgana's been a lot quicker to panic when faced with any kind of injury. It hurts Arthur to see his big sister, always the cool and collected one between the two of them, so easily shaken. “So, this friend?” he prompts, hoping to distract Morgana. It works.

 

“Yeah, I actually have no clue who he is?” she replies. She starts distributing the spoons around the table. “I just know his name is Gwaine and he's Merlin's ex.”

 

Arthur's hand pauses over the knife he was about to pick up again. He's suddenly very glad he didn't. “Merlin's ex?” he echoes.

 

“Yeah. Why are _you_ surprised, you and Gwen are pretty close too!”

 

“Well, yes,” he concedes. “But that's different. Gwen and I were never going to work. For obvious reasons.”

 

“Well, I guess him and Gwaine were never going to work either. Boy, I'm really glad my name doesn't start with gw-,” she adds.

 

Arthur rolls his eyes at her. He starts chopping the onions. “So... Merlin is bi then?” he asks in what he hopes is a casual tone. He can't deny the way his heart lifted when Morgana mentioned Gwaine's previous relationship with Merlin.

 

“I— I suppose? Never really asked him,” Morgana says. It doesn't sound like she's pulling his leg so he thinks he might have pulled off the _casual_ bit. That is, until Morgana asks, “Why?”

 

“Er, just curious,” he lies. His knife slips and the onion slice he cuts is about twice the thickness it should be. “I mean, if he used to date Gwaine, who is a dude or so you tell me, and now there's you...”

 

The sound of cutlery clinking against a plate reaches him first and then there's Morgana's laugh closely following it. He finishes chopping the onion. He takes another one and chops that one too. He puts them in the frying pan where they immediately start sizzling. Morgana is _still_ laughing.

 

“Care to share?” he asks, his curiosity having long ago faded into confusion and then irritation.

 

Morgana takes a few more seconds to calm down. One of her hands is pressed against her stomach and she's leaning against the table. “Just to make sure I got that right – you think Merlin and I are dating?”

 

“Yes?” Arthur tries. He thinks back to every interaction between Morgana and Merlin he's witnessed; yes, he's definitely Morgana's type and yes, they're definitely close, but the truth is, Arthur has never seen them acting as anything more than friends. Suddenly, Arthur feels incredibly embarrassed.

 

“Merlin and I? Are not dating!” Morgana says, laughing once again.

 

Arthur's face feels like he could very well be making dinner on it and not the stove. “Fine, fine, I get it,” he whines grabbing the pan without thinking. He lets go almost the moment his fingers make contact, so the burn is not serious, but it still hurts like hell and Arthur yelps. Morgana almost breaks a glass. “Just not my night tonight is it?” Arthur comments. Morgana makes a disapproving sound with her tongue, already cracking an egg and separating the white. She smears it on his hand with gentle fingers.

 

“Get out of the kitchen, I'm cooking tonight. I've had it with you almost giving me heart attacks.”

 

~*~

 

Arthur tops off Gwen's glass. She nods a thank you to him, then turns her attention back on Gwaine, who is telling what Arthur hopes to be an exaggerated version of a ZOO anecdote that included a guard, a young Gwaine, a shaky cage and a very drunk giraffe. Morgana and Gwen are like hypnotized, watching Gwaine as he talks and drinking in every word, laughing at all the appropriate times and asking a few questions here and there. Merlin, who is seated to Gwaine's left and is leaning over a little bit to see Gwaine's face, looks amused, but is also rolling his eyes whenever Gwaine says something that sounds particularly hard to believe. Arthur gets the feeling he's heard the story before and probably not the same version of it.

 

He watches carefully as Merlin's long fingers wrap around the stem of his wine glass and bring it to his lips. He takes a small sip and swallows it slowly. Arthur follows the bobbing of Merlin's throat.

 

Around him, Gwen and Morgana both erupt into a laughing fit and Arthur takes that as the cue that the story has ended. He chuckles at the point he didn't hear while casting just the briefest of glances at Merlin's face. Merlin is looking at him. Arthur doesn't even know if he's hoping that Merlin didn't notice him looking, or that Merlin totally caught him staring.

 

~*~

 

“Hey,” Morgana says, poking her head into Arthur's office. Arthur mumbles in response. He's knee-deep in deciphering R&D's report on the new headphones they've been working on and as much as he loves Morgana, he doesn't have time for her right now. “I know you're busy—“ Morgana starts.

 

“Then why are you talking to me?”

 

“But,” she continues like he didn't even say anything, “Merlin and I were thinking about going out for drinks tonight. To celebrate his first successful campaign. And I thought maybe you'd want to join us?”

 

Arthur pretends to still only be half-listening, the way he always does when Morgana casually (but not really; Arthur is on to her, the scheming minx) mentions that he should join something she and Merlin are doing these days. “Yeah, sure,” he replies as nonchalantly as he thinks he can pull off without sounding any alarms in Morgana's head. He's not fooling her, he can tell.

 

“Excellent! Gwaine and Elyan and Gwen and Leon are joining us. Probably Freya too. If her slave driver of a boss lets her out a bit early.”

 

“Yes, yes, whatever,” he says, waving her off. The door of the office closes quietly. Arthur grins stupidly at the unintelligible bullshit on his laptop.

 

~*~

 

When Arthur gets to the elevator, he find the button for up already pressed. He looks to his side and sees Merlin there.

 

“Good morning, boss,” Merlin greets politely. Too politely.

 

“You're not gonna shock me into forgetting you're a whole hour late to work, Merlin,” he replies. Merlin smiles at him like he knows Arthur is full of shit.

 

“Morgana gave me a free morning,” he says, only briefly checking which floor their elevator was on.

 

“Did she now,” Arthur comments, more to himself than to anyone else. He can feel Merlin's eyes on his face, but at this point, he's already used to that.

 

“And why are _you_ late, if I may notice?”

 

“Because I decide when the work hours begin,” Arthur answers readily, stepping into the elevator. He presses both the button for his floor, and the one for the marketing department. Merlin smiles gratefully at him.

 

The elevator ride is short, but by the fourth floor, only halfway there, Arthur is already fighting the urge to fidget. He keeps looking to his side, to Merlin's fingers resting on his bag, drumming a rhythm Arthur doesn't recognize. He wonders if it's weird for Merlin to see that, if he ever just looks at himself and thinks about all the sounds he must be making but can't hear.

 

“So, Gwaine is tending the bar at this club tonight,” Merlin says out of the blue. “He promises free drinks to all of his friends he finds attractive. Which is, really, all of his friends.” Merlin's voice is fond when he talks of Gwaine. Arthur wonders what Merlin sounds like when he's talking about him. “Wanna come?”

 

Arthur might be imagining it, but he thinks there might be a hint of hope in Merlin's question. His fingers have stopped moving. “Clubbing is not really my thing,” he says.

 

“Oh.” Merlin's fingers are restless again.

 

“But I can make an exception,” he adds quickly.

 

“Oh!” This time, there's definitely excitement in the sound. “Great! Well, pick me up after work? Morgana has to sort things out for the trip and book the tickets for the flight.”

 

“Sure,” Arthur agrees. He wants to say something more, but the elevator makes its annoying, mechanical ding sound and the door opens to the 9th floor. “See you then!” he manages to squeeze in before the door closes again. He doesn't think Merlin catches it.

 

Arthur goes to his office and sits at his desk, automatically logging into his e-mail account and taking out his planner. Clubbing with Merlin. It could be a chance for him to see Merlin in a different setting. It could be a chance for something to happen. Arthur's palms are already sweating at just the idea. He doesn't remember being this nervous about talking to someone he likes since junior high.

 

Him and Merlin, they've been dancing around whatever this thing between them is for weeks now, ever since that dinner at Arthur's place (definitely caught staring), Arthur more confident and open about his attraction since he found out Merlin was single and Merlin apparently, contradictory, more nervous now that he could probably safely guess that Arthur liked him, but still as determined and as much of a tease as ever.

 

Arthur can just imagine them in a cartoon, on a sports court, him in one corner and Merlin in the other, both slowly moving towards the centre. In that metaphor, he muses, Morgana would be the referee, waiting at the finish line and betting on who was gonna get there first.

 

Arthur is more than certain now that Morgana has been subtly trying to get them together all along and that Arthur's misperception of her own relationship with Merlin was just a bit of a setback in her plan. A part of him is outraged that she would meddle into his personal life like that. Another part of him is touched that she cares. But mostly, he's just grateful. Not that he'll tell her that.

 

~*~

 

“You know, I have to say, you don't strike me as a type to go to clubs,” Arthur has to say. He's driving Merlin home at 3 in the morning and he sends a silent prayer of thanks to the traffic gods for the empty streets because between turning toward Merlin every once in a while to enable conversation (and stare a little), being just this side of tipsy, and almost falling asleep from lack of rest, Arthur is not being the most conscientious driver right now. He will hate himself when he's gotten a little sleep and regained the ability to grasp just how dangerous this is. For now, he just drives.

 

“What, you figured me more for the kind of guy who goes to acoustic plays in cafes and visits art shows?”

 

“Well, yeah.” The alcohol is making Arthur bold and a lot less concerned about what is leaving his mouth than he usually is.

 

Merlin laughs. “Yeah, okay, I'm not gonna lie, you're not wrong,” he replies. “That's exactly the type I am.” From the corner of his eye, Arthur sees him look out of the window. When he speaks again, it's quiet and he sounds almost sad. “Or I used to be. I go to clubs because those are the only places where I can be absolutely certain I will 'hear' any music. That's why I go there so often.”

 

Arthur doesn't know what to say. He drives in silence down two more turns.

 

“But,” Merlin says, startling Arthur by putting a warm hand on his knee, “that's not really a conversation for a car lift home, is it?”

 

Arthur makes a sound that he himself isn't sure was affirmative. He can't think clearly with Merlin's hand moving a few inches above his knee and squeezing his thigh.

 

“So how would you feel about going to dinner with me?”

 

Arthur manages to stop himself from stepping on the brake only because he can see Merlin's apartment building in front of him. He pulls up to the curb in front of it and only then lets Merlin's words sink in. His hands reflexively squeeze around the wheel a few times. He can feel fucking _butterflies_ in his stomach.

 

He looks at Merlin. Merlin's hands are in his lap now and he's fidgeting, but that's that only sign that he's nervous at all. He's looking at Arthur expectantly and doesn't seem to be ready to leave the car before he gets his answer. Arthur thinks the butterflies from his stomach might be moving up to his head because he is beginning to really want to smile, and smile wide.

 

“Yeah, I'd love to go to dinner with you.”

 

~*~

 

Arthur barges into Morgana's room, vindictively deciding to wake her up by tickling her. She grumbles at him and pushes at his hands. “What do you waaaaant?” she whines.

 

“You win,” he tells her, “Merlin asked me out. We're going to dinner on Sunday.”

 

Morgana grins at him through the fingers covering her face. “I knew it!” she says.

 

“You win,” he repeats, still bent over her bed.

 

“Oh, Arthur.” Morgana reaches out and pulls Arthur's face down. She kisses his forehead. “It wasn't a game,” she says.

 

“Riiiiiight,” Arthur replies, hugging her. “Oh, come on, I know you've been trying to play matchmaker with us all along. Just wanted to let you know – your plan worked.”

 

“You can thank me on your wedding! And it wasn't a game,” Morgana says again when he steps away from the bed. “It was totally a game,” he hears her mumble into her pillow just before Arthur closes the door.

 

“I heard that!”

 

~*~

 

Arthur's phone beeps and vibrates against the polished surface of the nightstand. Morgana picks it up. “It's from Merlin,” she announces.

 

“Read it,” Arthur tells her, running his finger over the clothes in his closet. Since Merlin is taking him out, he's also picking the place. Arthur had to text Merlin to ask him what he should wear and he was waiting for the reply. It's only now that he's looking at all his clothes that he realizes his wardrobe is not very diverse.

 

“He says something casual,” Morgana informs him. She sounds way too excited. Arthur waits for the rest of the text, because he is sure there is something else there, something that he's positive Morgana is gonna be using to tease him about soon enough. “But also, to wear something that makes your ass look good,” she adds, giggling.

 

Arthur's head drops between his shoulders, his face heating up. He feels a little bit ridiculous. Having done everything he's done in his life, having been in boarding school most of his childhood, having defied his father most every step of his adult life, having run a corporation since he was only 26, he thinks it's odd that _this_ is what he gets nervous about. He's stood in front of people who could practically end his life as he knew it and stood his ground without breaking a sweat, and now one dinner gets him flustered. He presses his forehead to the closet doors. He's going out with Merlin. It's happening, _he's going out with Merlin_. He's not sure if the laugh that bubbles out of him is nervous or happy.

 

He doesn't hear it when Morgana walks in, but he feels her small hand between his shoulder blades. “It's really not that dire of a situation,” she teases, patting him, “I'm sure we can find _something_ casual in here.” Arthur laughs. “Here, these,” Morgana says, pulling out a pair of dark slacks. “They're casual. Well, casual enough. And you know what, they do make your ass look fantastic. Now, let's see if you have anything that is not a starched dress shirt in there.”

 

She does end up pulling out a dress shirt, but it's one that Arthur hasn't worn in ages. It's pristinely clean, the white of it almost shining, but it's wrinkled ( _“That's the_ point _, Arthur, stop trying to straighten it!”_ ). The buttons are a deep red colour and the Pendragon family crest is embroidered on the left breast pocket. Arthur runs his fingers over it.

 

“You're sure this is not a little too much?” he asks.

 

“Oh please, Merlin will _love_ it, he's weird like that, likes old things.” She grins at him wickedly over her shoulder. Arthur raises an eyebrow at her to remind her that she's even older than him. “He'll probably ask you about it, how come we even have a crest and what you know about it, so I hope you remember all of Uther's lectures about our family history. Not that there is any way you wouldn't remember, he gave them at practically every meal we ever shared,” she quickly adds as she pushes him out of the closet and back to his room. She pats his chest and gestures for him to change clothes. The sound of their doorbell rings through the house. “Ah, that'll be Gwen and Elyan,” Morgana says, sounding delighted. “I invited them over for some consultations,” she explains as she goes to get the door.

 

Arthur wants to be frustrated with her, but as he takes off his t-shirt, shrugs into the shirt Morgana picked out and starts buttoning it up, he knows it's not frustration that has his fingers shaking.

 

By the time everyone is back upstairs (Morgana entering his room first, then Gwen and Elyan followed by some guy Arthur has never met in his life which is a little bit weird considering they are all in his bedroom and he is zipping up his pants), Arthur has mostly finished getting dressed. He looks down at himself and only then realizes how extremely disconcerting he finds the lack of a tie and a jacket on top of his shirt.

 

“Ooh, looking good,” Elyan teases him. Arthur wishes he was still young enough to get away with sticking his tongue out at people or flipping them off.

 

“It actually does look good!” Gwen says honestly, reaching out to smooth her fingers over the Pendragon crest. “I've never seen you wear that before.”

 

“First of all, can I just say how happy I am that you all have such faith in the idea that I can look good,” he deadpans, “and secondly, thank you, Gwen.” Gwen smiles at him briefly, before looking back down at the crest.

 

“That's some excellent work,” she murmurs to herself. Arthur can just _see_ the clogs working in her brain, memorizing the stitching pattern.

 

“And thirdly,” he adds belatedly, talking to the guy Gwen and Elyan brought, “no offence, but you're in my bedroom and I have no idea who you are.”

 

“Right,” the guy laughs, extending his hand. “I'm Lancelot. Gwen and I have been friends for—“

 

“Ah, yes, now I know,” Arthur interrupts him. Gwen has always spoken about Lancelot with high praise, always sounding just a little bit smitten and Arthur has long begun wondering if Lancelot was even real or if Gwen was just idealizing him. Standing in front of Lancelot now, though, he can see the appeal.

 

“Lancelot just got back from Somalia,” Elyan says as he jumps onto Arthur’s bed. _Doctors Without Borders_ , Arthur remembers, feeling a little slow for how long it takes him. He must be _really_ preoccupied, he realizes. It'd be funny if it didn't make him even more nervous.

 

“All right, everyone, we have about half an hour to coach Arthur how to act on a date,” Morgana tells everyone, clapping her hands once. Arthur shoves at her shoulder, privately admitting that yeah, maybe he could use some help.

 

“Definitely roll up the sleeves,” Elyan throws in from the bed.

 

“Oh, yes,” Lancelot agrees, sitting down next to Elyan. He fits in with them surprisingly smoothly. Arthur feels like he already knows Lancelot, having heard so much about him from Gwen. He likes Lancelot, he decides as Morgana goes to the bathroom to pick out a cologne for him. He feels a little like a dress up doll. But then, these are some of the people who know him best and if there is anyone he trusts to help him make this work, it's them. And since he _really_ wants to make this work, he will take any help he can get. He grins at random when it hits him, yet again, that he's going on a date with Merlin. Lancelot puts a hand on his shoulder like he understands. They could become good friends, Arthur decides.

 

~*~

 

Arthur picks Merlin up in front of his apartment complex. Merlin is wearing a light blue shirt and dark jeans, a black scarf loosely tied around his neck and Arthur only feels _a little_ overdressed. When he reaches out and opens the passenger door, his hand is trembling. Merlin slides into the car gracefully, his hand brushing up the entire length of Arthur's arm to squeeze his shoulder.

 

“Hello,” he says. He sounds breathy.

 

“Hey,” Arthur replies. He stifles down a nervous laugh. Merlin doesn't seem to be in a better shape, though.

 

~*~

 

The restaurant they're in is very obviously a family business, but it's not exactly what Arthur expects. The walls are white with brick red accents (Arthur felt like a waiter when he first walked in, until he saw that all the waiting staff was wearing black uniforms) and littered with photos of the same few people with various happy customers. There are symmetrically placed tall vases with real palm leaves. Arthur is surprisingly impressed by Merlin's choice (he doesn't even know why he keeps being surprised anymore; he decisively doesn't think about how he continues to expect the other shoe to drop because he feels like Merlin just might be too good for him, too good to be interested in him), which Merlin doesn't miss. “I thought you might like it. I know the owners so I got us a reservation,” he said when they first walked in, Arthur's hand glued to Merlin's lower back.

 

“The guy is an asshole!” Merlin says now, tipping his wine glass in Arthur's direction before taking a sip. “I mean, it's supposed to be a _creative_ design class, right? He just wants everyone to do what _he_ does! That's not creativity.”

 

“Mmhm,” Arthur agrees, the fingers of his right hand itching to move just that little bit closer and touch Merlin's hand. He can't stop looking at Merlin, hasn't even been trying to for the last hour and a half. His nerves have simmered down to a pleasant buzz in his stomach, he hasn't embarrassed himself (not counting the fact that he's sure the entire restaurant can see him staring at Merlin with the expression of a lovestruck teenager), the conversation is running smoothly (more or less – Merlin occasionally asks him to repeat something) and Merlin seems to be having a good time. Arthur is definitely having a good time, the best he's had in a long time, he realizes.

 

“I'm sorry,” Merlin laughs, “but your face hasn't changed and I can't tell if you reacted to that at all.”

 

“Oh!” Arthur starts to apologize, but he knows by now that Merlin genuinely doesn't mind. It's one of the things he admires about Merlin, that he is so flexible about the way people treat him, even though sometimes it feels like the world is somehow failing Merlin in forcing him to adjust instead of becoming more accessible to him. “Sometimes I just... forget you can't hear me,” Arthur admits.

 

“Good,” Merlin replies. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

 

Arthur thinks about that for a second. “Yeah, you should. You're probably better adjusted than most of the people I know who are perfectly—“ He doesn't know how to end that.

 

“Normal?” Merlin suggests, laughing. “You can say it.”

 

“I don't want to,” Arthur replies.

 

“Good answer,” Merlin grins at him. Arthur doesn't know why he's so proud of himself over just that one little thing. “Go ahead, I'm sure you have questions,” he adds.

 

For the first time all evening, Arthur feels uncomfortable. He _does_ have questions, but he doesn't know how to ask them; they feel somehow _wrong_. Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I wasn't born deaf,” he says, “as you might have figured from the fact that I talk about as well as a person of hearing. Or so I'm told. A couple of years ago, I started getting dizzy spells, my ears would start ringing. And then one morning I woke and I just... couldn't hear.”

 

“You don't have to tell me these things,” Arthur interrupts. He can feel that mood has shifted, become more solemn and he doesn't want to ruin an otherwise very pleasant evening.

 

Merlin smiles sadly, looking away from Arthur's face and turning to the three candles in the centre of their table. “At the risk of scaring you off,” he says, “but I really like you. I want to make this work. And well, let's be real for a second, you've never dated a deaf person, you have no clue what you're doing here,” he grins teasingly at Arthur, “and maybe it will help you to... know more.”

 

Arthur is shocked into silence by Merlin's honesty. He is not used to someone being that frank with him, especially not in his line of work. He thinks back to the first time he met Merlin – even then, Merlin wasn't only unfazed by Arthur's authority, he challenged it. He smiles at the memory. He notices he's not nervous anymore, even though they're venturing into more serious topics.

 

“Yeah, it probably will,” he admits.

 

“They call it the sudden deafness syndrome. Imaginative, I know.” He shakes his head. “It's usually partial hearing loss and it's usually temporary, but I had to be special.” Merlin's voice is steady and his expression is blankly polite. Arthur can sense just a hint of bitterness coming from him, though. “It was terrible at first,” he admits, his face crumbling. “I had been so used to being surrounded by sound all the time and just... People think it's just silence, when you're deaf. It's more that that, it's the kind of silence that feels like that annoying, constant, flat sound, it's like someone is putting pressure on your _brain_ , it's suffocating.”

 

Arthur has never heard Merlin sound like that, so broken. He wishes he could just do something to erase that whole part of Merlin's life. He reaches out over the table and takes Merlin's hand. That seems to break Merlin out of his spell and when he looks at Arthur again, there's a small smile on his face.

 

“You get used to it, though. At first I was just very mad, and then I put everything into hoping that I will get better. And while I was waiting to magically suddenly start hearing again, I... Well, I got used to not hear. I adjusted. In the end, I didn't mind that much,” he finishes.

 

“So, is there still a possibility that you'll hear again?” Arthur asks carefully.

 

“Oh, yeah. The thing about sudden deafness is that no one actually has a clue about it. They don't know why it happens, they don't know how to stop it and they don't know how to fix it.” Merlin squeezes Arthur's hand lightly. “But I've stopped expecting it.”

 

When Merlin doesn't say anything more, Arthur decides that he doesn't want to pry. He believes that Merlin _wants_ to tell him everything, but he also thinks that maybe, just for once, Merlin may be overestimating himself. He doesn't think it's as easy for Merlin to talk about this as Merlin usually makes it seem.

 

Since Merlin is not looking at him anymore, Arthur taps the side of Merlin's hand with his thumb to get his attention. “You're very good at reading lips,” he says, blatantly shifting the subject of conversation to a safer zone.

 

Merlin laughs. It doesn't _quite_ sound like he's okay again, but it's close. “Thank you! It's all just one very long guessing game, to be honest,” he admits. “Half the time I only catch every other word and then I just fill the rest in logically. Doesn't always work out exactly as I planned.”

 

Encouraged by his successful technique for lightening the mood, Arthur decides to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. “I have to say, it can be very distracting that you're always looking at my mouth.” His heart is beating faster and feels like it's crawling up his throat, but the fact that Merlin's hand has not moved from his gives him hope. He's looking at Merlin's eyes as he says it so he sees the flicker of surprise, quickly masked away when Merlin smiles brightly and a little nervously.

 

“Yeah? I've been told it looks like I want to kiss everyone,” he says, seemingly stuck between making it a joke and trying to be seductive, and so help him, but Arthur finds it _adorable_. “See, that didn't go as I planned either. Let me try that again.” Arthur laughs. Merlin leans in closer, and Arthur mirrors him. “If it looks like I want to kiss _you_ ,” Merlin breathes, this time totally succeeding in making Arthur want to pull him closer and forget there are other patrons around them, “it's because I do.”

 

Arthur gives Merlin about two seconds to change his mind before leaning in and pressing his lips to Merlin's. Merlin is more than ready for it, though, his free hand finding its place on Arthur's neck pulling him closer. Arthur expects Merlin to kiss like he does everything else – quickly and straightforwardly, taking no nonsense. But he doesn't. When Arthur licks at Merlin's lips, Merlin opens his mouth slowly, only just touching Arthur's tongue with his own. It's intoxicating, the way Merlin teases him and makes him work for it; it makes him always want _more_.

 

Distracted by Merlin's mouth, Arthur doesn't notice that he's leaning too far over the table and knocks off a half full glass of wine. He hears it break on the floor, and pulls away. Merlin frowns at him and just squints with one eye, like he's gauging why Arthur is not kissing him anymore. Arthur waves to the side of the table and says, “Glass.”

 

Merlin looks down and starts laughing. “Well, it's flattering to know I have that effect on you,” he squeezes out between fits of laughter. Their waiter, a kid named Will who's been unusually attentive to their table all night, is already cleaning up the mess, looking, of all things, like he's about to start laughing as well. Arthur thinks it's unprofessional until Merlin kicks at the kid's foot from under the table with a “Shut up, Will,” and Arthur figures out they know each other.

 

Merlin kisses him again when he stops laughing, not knocking anything off the table this time, and Arthur can feel the smile against his lips. It's the best date he's ever been on.

 

~*~

 

“Your 1 o'clock is here,” comes Freya's voice from the speakerphone.

 

Arthur closes his laptop and stands up, buttoning his jacket. Then he sees Gwaine strut through the door like _he_ owned the place. “Gwaine?” he asks disbelievingly.

 

“For all you know, I could be an actual client!” Arthur raises one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Fine, I'm not,” he admits, laughing.

 

“What are you even doing here? You realize you have my phone number, right?” Arthur waves a hand towards the chairs in front of Gwaine, years of business professionalism ingrained in his mind.

 

“Ah, yes, but Merlin would kill me if he knew I was talking to you about him, so I figured I was safest visiting you at work.”

 

“Merlin works here,” Arthur replies, unimpressed.

 

“Yeah, but he doesn't work with _you_. Which is all not what I came here to discuss,” Gwaine says. He's sprawling in one of Arthur's chairs and he looks like he is seconds away from putting his feet up somewhere.

 

“Don't,” Arthur warns. Gwaine gives him an indulging look. “So, what do you want?”

 

Gwaine hums and takes his time. Arthur is kind of mad that Gwaine, a professional lazy ass, looks so at ease in his office. Arthur will have to seriously reconsider putting such comfortable chairs out for his clients.

 

“So, I assume either Morgana or Merlin have already told you Merlin and I used to date.”

 

Arthur feels a slight pang of jealously, completely unreasonable and perfectly aware of it, which is precisely why his only reaction is to nod.

 

“I didn't come here to make you jealous,” Gwaine continues, picking up a pen from Arthur's desk and twirling it between his fingers. One corner of Arthur's mouth lifts – Gwaine is surprisingly similar to him and Arthur should have known he would understand. “I came here to tell you that Merlin is my friend. My _best_ friend. He's the closest thing to family I have.”

 

“I know,” Arthur says. He's never spoken to Gwaine about his family, but from the mentions in various conversations he's picked up on the fact that Gwaine's never even met his father and he's never been very close to his mother. He understands Gwaine's protectiveness over Merlin perfectly; he can relate, having Morgana in his life.

 

“Don't hurt him,” Gwaine says, cutting straight to the point. “Or I will end you.” He's smiling, the charming sod that he is, but Arthur knows he's serious. Gwaine throws the pen over to Arthur. Arthur catches it and throws it back. “You make him happy,” Gwaine comments, not looking at Arthur as he throws the pen again. “And I want to help you make him even happier. So if you ever need a cheat sheet, I'm here.”

 

Arthur throws the pen at Gwaine's head, hoping to catch him off guard, but Gwaine ducks and the pen falls to the floor somewhere behind him. “I'm not gonna need it.”

 

“I hope so,” Gwaine shrugs, standing up to leave.

 

Something occurs to Arthur as Gwaine reaches for the door. “Hey, I have to ask you. Did you date Merlin before, I mean, back when he could still hear, or...?”

 

Gwaine looks at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, mostly. And briefly after he couldn't anymore.”

 

He doesn't elaborate, and Arthur doesn't ask. He adds Gwaine's number to his speed dial.

 

~*~

 

With only one lamp in the room turned on behind him, the light is dim and only just enough for Arthur to make out the lines of Merlin's face. The straight, long line of his nose and the sharp angles of his cheekbones are bathed in the warm, golden light, standing out even more against the deep shadows covering the rest of his face. Before his eyes can adjust and the artistic quality of his barely working appliances is lost, Arthur kisses Merlin, taking care not to break eye contact. Even Merlin's eyes appear golden before they close.

 

“Not to kill the mood,” Merlin says, slightly breathless, “but Morgana isn’t coming back tonight, is she?” His thighs on either side of Arthur's, he rolls his hips forward just enough for Arthur to feel the heat coming from Merlin's front.

 

Arthur laughs, his head dropping to Merlin's shoulder briefly before he looks up again. “No. Now can we please not talk about my sister anymore while I'm thinking about you naked?”

 

“Oh?” Merlin replies innocently, batting his eyelashes. “Well, I'm not naked yet.”

 

“I'm aware,” Arthur says, sliding his hands under Merlin's shirt and up his back. “I'm working on that.”

 

“Mmmm?” Merlin hums. “Need help with that?”

 

Arthur rubs Merlin's back and leans up for a kiss before deciding to sacrifice one hand in favour of unbuttoning Merlin's shirt. Merlin's hands on Arthur's shoulders are gentle, but twitchy. Merlin's nervous, Arthur realizes, for all that he's playing it cool. To his surprise, Arthur himself is not so much nervous as he's giddy on the effect he has on Merlin.

 

The first and second buttons on Merlin’s shirt give easily under his fingers, the dark plaid parting. Arthur leans in and kisses the dip under Merlin's throat, flicking his tongue out to taste the skin. Merlin smells good – light, fresh cologne just barely overpowering the clean, forest smell of his skin. Arthur closes his eyes and breaths in deep. On a whim, he bares his teeth, scraping them lightly over the bone. One of Merlin's hands is immediately in his hair and Merlin groans quietly. Arthur bites down harder, then soothes the mark with his tongue as he continues to work his way down Merlin's front.

 

When Merlin's shirt falls open, Arthur moves away enough to take him in. He puts his hand, fingers spread, over Merlin's warm stomach, feels the slight tickling of the hairs there. Merlin breathes in sharply.

 

“It's been a while for me,” Merlin says. His hand creases the material of Arthur's shirt as he slides down from Arthur's shoulder to his chest. “Probably two years,” he adds. He doesn't look embarrassed.

 

“I wasn't going to mount you on the floor caveman style,” Arthur jokes pushing Merlin's shirt enough to reveal one bony shoulder.

 

Merlin's eyes flash and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Damn, I was rather hoping,” he says. Arthur feels a surge of arousal go through him. He scratches at Merlin's back and delights in the way it makes Merlin arch away from his hand for an instant before pushing back against it. “Maybe some other time,” Merlin promises. He leans forward, his lips brushing over Arthur's cheek. “Because I would _really_ like that,” he whispers directly in Arthur's ear, making him shiver. Arthur nips at the lobe of Merlin's ear in response.

 

He kisses the side of Merlin's neck, then lower until he reaches the place where it meets Merlin's shoulder. He bites down hard and sucks; fully aware he's leaving a mark. Merlin moans loudly, his nails scratching Arthur's scalp pleasantly and his other hand pulling on Arthur's shirt so hard the top button flies off, making them both laugh.

 

“You owe me a shirt,” Arthur says, grinning.

 

“I like you better without it anyway,” Merlin replies, quickly and efficiently undoing a few more buttons. His fingers only brush over Arthur's skin and the anticipation of a prolonged touch makes everything Arthur feels so much sharper.

 

Impatient, he holds the back of Merlin's shirt in his hand and pulls on it until Merlin, laughing, gives in and relaxes his arms enough for Arthur to pull his shirt completely off. Arthur puts both of his hands on Merlin's chest, spreads his fingers. Merlin's chest rises and falls as he breathes, a little shallow, but still even. His skin is warm and soft and Arthur can feel the lean muscles twitching under his palms. He lets his hands roam over Merlin's front.

 

Merlin continues to undo Arthur's buttons and strokes the side of Arthur's face. Arthur's fingers tangle in what little chest hair Merlin has, his other hand slowly making its way to the back of Merlin's neck. He's seen Merlin shirtless before, he's touched Merlin before, but not yet quite like this, not with these intentions.

 

Arthur rubs his thumb over Merlin's nipple, then pinches it, enjoying the surprised sound Merlin makes. He does it again, then moves on to the other nipple. Merlin knocks their foreheads together. He pushes Arthur's shirt off his shoulders, then grabs Arthur's biceps for better stability as Arthur continues touching him.

 

“Oh god,” Merlin sighs, his hips twitching forward. “Okay, god, stop, please.”

 

Arthur does, his hand gravitating to the centre of Merlin's chest and then lower, until it's resting just under Merlin's belly button, stroking over the soft skin gently. Merlin's breathing is harsher now and there are beads of sweat on his temples. His cheeks and neck are flushed pink.

 

“Too much?” Arthur asks, rubbing the back of Merlin's neck.

 

“A little, yeah.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Merlin just hums noncommittally, cocking his head to the side and sliding one hand over Arthur's chest. “And you?” he asks. “What do you like?”

 

“You,” Arthur replies, without a thought. Merlin makes a face at that, like he's swallowing a lemon, but when their eyes meet, he doesn't seem to be able to hold it in anymore and starts laughing. Arthur's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but Merlin's laughter is infectious and soon, he's joining in.

 

“Sorry,” Merlin hiccups, “I didn't mean to laugh at _you_ , but...” He touches Arthur's forehead with his, a few last bursts of laughter leaving his mouth. “That was... sweet,” he says at the same time as Arthur offers, “Juvenile?” Merlin strokes Arthur's cheek with a gentle hand. “I was gonna be nice about it but now that you mention it, yeah, a bit childish.”

 

“Yeah. I'm usually smoother than that,” Arthur promises.

 

Merlin puts a finger to his lips, pouting. “Not really, no.”

 

Arthur shakes his head, mock offended. Merlin just grins at him playfully and kisses him again.

 

“Don't worry,” he says. “You've gotten me into a bed, so clearly you're doing _something_ right.”

 

“Clearly,” Arthur replies, wrapping his arms around Merlin's torso and bringing him closer to kiss him. One of Merlin's hands finds its way to Arthur's neck, while the other wastes no time going for Arthur's belt. Arthur appreciates the enthusiasm.

 

“Wait, hold on,” Merlin suddenly says, putting a hand on Arthur's chest and pushing him back a little. Arthur frowns at him, confused. “Before we are totally back into it we should probably get _all_ the awkward stuff out of the way,” Merlin explains. “Like, for example, you don't really have a wide variety of positions to choose from, since I do need to see your face. At least for the beginning.”

 

“I can make that work,” Arthur replies, lying back onto the bed, his hands on Merlin's thighs.

 

“Right,” Merlin agrees. “More pressingly though, I sincerely hope you have lube and condoms, because I don't.”

 

That, Arthur has to think about. “I might?” Merlin groans, thumping his forehead on Arthur's chest.

 

“This is not exactly how I imagined tonight would go,” he mumbles.

 

It's not exactly what Arthur had in mind either, but all setbacks aside, he's still quite happy to have a half naked Merlin on top of him. He tilts Merlin's chin up. “We don't have to—“ he starts.

 

“No, no, no, don't get me wrong, I _want_ to,” Merlin interrupts quickly, “I just... I mean, it's stupid I know, but... You know how, when you're looking forward to something...”

 

“You were looking forward to this?” Arthur asks, grinning.

 

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Don't let it go to your head. Anyway, you always imagine how it will be and, in your mind, it's perfect, right? But then it happens and, well, it's...”

 

“Nowhere near as satisfying as you thought it would be?” Arthur offers. He knows exactly how Merlin feels.

 

“Not perfect,” Merlin corrects mildly.

 

Arthur takes a deep breath. His palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn't think he's felt this awkward being in bed with someone since he was 19 and didn't know how to tell Sophia that the reason he couldn't get it up was because she wasn't his very fit male roommate.

 

Merlin clears his throat. “So, wanna start this over? We can pretend this all never happened and we somehow magically ended up naked together.”

 

“We seem to do that a lot,” Arthur comments. Then adds, “Start over. Not... end up naked.”

 

“Hmm, you're right. We should work on that,” Merlin replies as he climbs off of Arthur's lap. Arthur watches him take off what is left of his clothes until he's standing naked by the bed, his hands on his hips. Admirably, he's still most of the way hard, Arthur notices. He doesn't even pretend that he's not staring. Merlin does a little spin. “Like what you see?” he teases.

 

“Eh, you're not bad,” Arthur answers.

 

Merlin rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling. “If you're quite done ogling me,” he says, “you should consider telling me where to find those condoms and lube you _might_ have,” he reaches down and pulls Arthur up by his hand, “and getting naked.”

 

Arthur lets the momentum carry him until he's crowding into Merlin's personal space. He leans in and kisses Merlin, bites at his bottom lip and sucks on it before pulling away enough for Merlin to see his face. “If I still have condoms,” Merlin's eyes are glued to his face, but Merlin's hands are a whole different story, pushing Arthur's shirt off his shoulders and making quick work of his belt, “they're in the cabinet behind the mirror in the bathroom. Probably on the left.”

 

“Mmm,” Merlin hums, hooking a finger in one of the now empty belt loops and pulling Arthur close. Arthur's skin tingles pleasantly where it touches Merlin's; their foreheads bump, and then their noses and Arthur feels the head of Merlin's cock brushing against his lower stomach. His own cock stirs in response again. Merlin kisses him briefly, just a press of lips, then starts moving away, his finger still looped in Arthur's pants, like he almost doesn't want to leave. “Okay,” he says suddenly, sounding determined. He breathes out a long breath and looks directly at Arthur. “I'll get the condoms from the bathroom, you get the lube and lose the clothes and I'll meet you here in a minute. And then no more distractions. And we never talk about how long it took us to get our sit together. Deal?”

 

Arthur grins. “Deal,” he agrees. His trousers are already on the floor before Merlin's even gotten to the bathroom, and his briefs follow quickly. He crawls over the bed to the other side to dig through the top drawer of the nightstand. The half-empty bottle of lube is not difficult to find.

 

“I can't believe neither of us thought to be prepared,” he hears Merlin complain from the bathroom as he rummages around through rattling bottles of pills in Arthur's cabinet.

 

Arthur chuckles to the pillows he's propping up against the wall to make himself more comfortable. He settles against them, quickly pours some lube onto his hand and pulls on his cock, a firm grip and slow slide until he's fully hard. He leaves his hand loosely wrapped around the base.

 

He looks towards the open bathroom door; all he can see is Merlin's foot, hovering over the floor – he's probably at the top shelf, the one that's a little too high up for Arthur to properly reach which would be a bad sign, if Merlin weren't making a eureka type sound. Arthur laughs again, shaking his head. It's a bit of a ridiculous situation really, and it's far from the sexiest, most romantic evening he's ever experienced, but when Merlin emerges from the bathroom waving around a small box victoriously, Arthur thinks he really doesn't have much to complain about.

 

“Now,” Merlin says, throwing the box at Arthur and then following it, climbing onto Arthur's lap again, his hand smoothly running over Arthur's thigh to give his cock two light strokes before sliding up to Arthur's shoulder so Merlin can easily lean over him, “where were we?”

 

Merlin is still finding his balance on top of Arthur when Arthur grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him. Merlin falls on top of him smiling, but is quick to return the kiss, teasing at first, then deeper, more purposeful. Arthur strokes the back of Merlin's neck with his thumb, his other hand resting on Merlin's lower back, while Merlin keeps himself up with one hand on Arthur's shoulder while the other ghosts over Arthur's ribs and stomach. Merlin holds Arthur's bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it when he angles his head down to look between their bodies. He hums approvingly, making Arthur look down as well. With only the one lamp on, it's still rather dark in the room, but Arthur can clearly see when Merlin move just that bit to the right and suddenly everything aligns perfectly, Merlin's body fitting in with Arthur's like it was meant to be there. When Merlin rolls his hips the next time, dragging his cock over Arthur's in one slow push, Arthur moans. He tips Merlin's head up again and kisses him with all he's got.

 

Merlin rolls his hips in a slow rhythm, every drag of their cocks together pulling a quiet, breathy moan from Arthur, who's quickly moving on from holding Merlin close to palming Merlin's ass. Merlin is the one who breaks the kiss, nipping at Arthur's lips and moving just enough to be able to see between them while still keeping their foreheads touching. Arthur is not as fascinated with watching their bodies moving together as he is fascinated with examining Merlin's face, the slight frown marring his forehead, his spit-shined lips parted as Merlin pants lightly, the beads of sweat on his hairline.

 

Arthur nudges Merlin's nose with his own, successfully getting Merlin's attention so Merlin looks at him, dragging his eyes to Arthur's face like it physically pains him to do so, his eyes half-closed and unfocused. “Hmmm?” he hums questioningly.

 

“You, um, like to watch?” Arthur asks awkwardly between two noisy breaths that he drags in when Merlin pushes down into him harder.

 

“Yeah, it's, ooooh, it's...” Merlin looks directly into Arthur's eyes, his rhythm faltering a little. “I used to get off on sounds,” he says quietly, “but now... Watching is a, hm, a second best.”

 

“Oh.” Arthur frowns, his hand falling to Merlin's hip. He squeezes it, lets his thumb trace the jutting bone. “Let's watch then.”

 

Merlin smiles tentatively at him. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Arthur grins back. He yanks the pillows out from under his back and lies flat down on the bed. The dim light spills over them, making every dip and raise of their bodies more clearly visible.

 

Merlin dives down, kissing the corner of Arthur's lips and mumbling, “Thanks,” while one of his hands searches through the mess they've made of Arthur's sheets. He sits back up, triumphantly raising a hand wrapped around the bottle of lube.

 

Arthur watches as Merlin squeezes some of the clear cream onto his hand, which he then wraps around them both, giving it an experimental pull. The first touch is strange, the lube still cold, Merlin's hands warm and his grip uncertain, but Merlin is a quick study and it doesn't take him too long to find a good angle at which he can easily and effectively jerk them both. His hold on them gets firmer and he starts twisting his hand at the heads; Arthur's hands on Merlin's thighs ball up into fists and he starts to push up into Merlin's hand. Merlin moans loudly, his hips also snapping forward; the feel of Merlin's cock rubbing against his own in the tight circle of Merlin's fingers has Arthur's heart beating faster. Merlin hasn't looked away from his hand since he wrapped it around them and looking now, Arthur can see the appeal – the way Merlin's hand moves slowly and surely over their slick cocks, the ripple of muscles in Merlin's legs whenever Merlin fucks up into his own fist and Arthur can see why Merlin likes to watch.

 

Except when he looks up, Merlin is not watching, he's staring at Arthur's face and their eyes meet. Merlin makes a quiet strangled noise before he closes his eyes and gives their cocks one last squeeze, then lets go. He kneels up, putting some distance between them. Arthur arches off the bed, instinctively following, but Merlin stops him by shoving the bottle of lube into his hand. Arthur raises his eyebrows.

 

“Can you? I know it's an awkward angle.” Merlin looks at his own hand, still sticky, makes a face, then wipes it on the sheets.

 

“Oi,” Arthur complains, shoving at Merlin's shoulder.

 

Merlin grins at him mischievously. “Please, they were done with anyway,” he says. His voice is lower and a little hoarse and he's breathing through his mouth. Arthur thinks he can get over the sheets, maybe.

 

He sleeks his fingers. Merlin's right, the angle is completely wrong and Arthur can't see a damn thing so all he has to go on is what he can feel under his fingertips. He starts by pressing two just behind Merlin's balls, probing a little, listening for the little noises falling from Merlin's lips. He looks at Merlin's face, expecting to find Merlin's eyes closed, but Merlin is actually looking back, his eyes glassy and shiny and dark in the awful light. Arthur finds he can't look away.

 

He runs his fingers up, then back down Merlin's crack, almost as a warning, before feeling out for Merlin's hole. He doesn't push in, just presses at the muscle, and prods with one finger. Merlin's eyelids flutter almost closed, but he doesn't look away. Arthur takes that as his cue, putting more pressure until the muscle under his finger gives. The only reaction he gets is a quiet _ooh_. He waits until Merlin gives him a small nod before he starts to move his finger in and out. This time Merlin's _ooh_ s are louder.

 

Still not breaking eye contact, Merlin reaches down and gives Arthur's cock a few slow pulls. He stops, almost like he's forgetting, when Arthur adds another finger and Merlin grunts, his knees parting a little further when he pushes back against Arthur's hand. Arthur knows it's a sign, but he deliberately leaves his fingers still, smirking up at Merlin.

 

“Oh, come on,” Merlin whines, apparently easily interpreting the look on Arthur's face, since he starts to fuck himself on Arthur's fingers, his hand on Arthur's cock moving again. Arthur's arm hurts from the way it's twisted, but he's too immersed in watching Merlin move on top of him to do anything about it. There's a blush creeping up Merlin's neck to his cheeks and his thighs are already shaking and the noises he makes are stuck between frustrated groans and obscene moans. Arthur takes pity on him, shoves his fingers inside roughly and curls them slowly, experimentally until Merlin shudders with a strangled cry. Arthur rubs against the same spot again and Merlin squeezes around him. “More,” he breathes. He presses his thumb under the head of Arthur's cock then drags it up to the slit, distracting Arthur. “More,” he repeats.

 

Arthur easily slips the third finger inside. This time he doesn't wait, pulling his fingers out and pushing them back in immediately, speeding the movement up. Merlin rewards him with a high-pitched sound that comes through his nose. He tries to push back, but his thighs give out and he falls on top of Arthur, bracing himself with both of his hands on Arthur's chest. Arthur's fingers slip out of Merlin's ass with a wet sound and Merlin hisses, displeased. Arthur tries to placate him by fondling his balls with the hand still stuck between them, but Merlin is already sitting up and batting Arthur's arm away.

 

“No,” he says, “enough, fuck me already.” Arthur wants to say something back, but all that comes out of his mouth is a pathetic needy little sound. He's rather beginning to like Merlin's bossiness.

 

Merlin crouches over him, steadying himself with a hand on Arthur's bicep. Arthur grabs Merlin's forearm to help him. It's an odd gesture of support, but he likes it. He lets the fingers of his free hand ghost over Merlin's ankle. With his free hand, Merlin fishes a condom out of the box, lying forgotten on the pillows, rips the foil with his teeth and slips the condom on Arthur expertly (Arthur tries not to think that Merlin's done this before, done it many times, because he hasn't done it with Arthur and that makes it different). He locks eyes with Arthur briefly, reassurance Arthur thinks, before his arm disappears behind him. He holds the base of Arthur's cock and guides the head between his cheeks, rubbing it over his hole and humming appreciatively. Arthur bites his bottom lip to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to just push up into Merlin.

 

Merlin pumps Arthur's cock a few times, then wraps two fingers just under the head. He sinks down, taking just the tip in, then lets it slip out. Arthur watches Merlin's face, looking for signs of discomfort, but he doesn't think he finds any. Merlin's eyes are closed and his mouth is open, his brows drawn together, but he doesn't look like he's in pain. He pushes down again, this time taking the whole head in and moans loudly. Arthur just barely resists arching off the bed. Merlin takes in a little more of Arthur, then sits up again so that Arthur’s cock slips out of his body again. They both groan at the feeling but for different reasons, Arthur suspects.

 

Merlin opens his eyes, looking a little bashful. “My favourite part,” he admits, guiding Arthur's cock back inside slowly, his eyes closing again and his head falling back. This time he only pauses before sliding all the way down. Arthur watches as his cock disappears into Merlin's body easily. Above him, Merlin whispers, “Oh my _god_.” He squirms around on Arthur's lap, finding a more comfortable position and grinding his hips down into Arthur's at different angles, every move dragging a moan louder than the one before it out of him. Arthur's hips are already stuttering upwards and he has to focus to make sure his hands stroking Merlin's inner thighs are gentle. And then Merlin just lets his legs fall open around Arthur and sinks all the way down, taking Arthur’s cock even deeper and Arthur can't _not_ grab at Merlin's sides with a groan at that. Merlin scratches at Arthur's stomach, like he's grabbing for the clothes that are no longer there and mumbles, “Come 'ere.”

 

He looks _wrecked_ , Arthur decides, taking a long look of the picture before him and committing it to memory before sitting up. They're so close like this, Merlin's damp hair brushing Arthur’s forehead and Merlin's warm breath ghosting over Arthur's lips; the intimacy of the position is overwhelming – Arthur closes his eyes and buries his face in Merlin's neck, tasting the salty sweat under his tongue. He holds Merlin close with arms wrapped tightly around his back. Merlin's body angles towards him and slides closer easily when Arthur hugs him tighter and he hears Merlin curse softly in his ear. Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur's shoulders, one of his hands tangling into Arthur's hair. It gives him just enough purchase to start moving, rocking up and down. There isn't a lot of space to move at all, not enough for anything more than shallow thrusts and grinding, but Arthur can _feel_ every flex of muscle, every push and pull and drag of Merlin's body against his, he can feel Merlin like Merlin's an extension of himself, like they're both melting and mingling and become one, and it's, well, it's different. A little intimidating in its intensity, but not _bad_.

 

Arthur can barely even breathe, his face squished as it is against Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin doesn't sound much better, panting harshly into Arthur’s ear. “Show me,” he says between breaths, “come on, show me, please.” He tugs on Arthur’s hair gently. Arthur lets it happen, lets his head follow the motion and lets Merlin turn his face up so they're looking at each other. Merlin strokes the side of Arthur's face gently, like he thinks maybe he can break Arthur if he's any rougher, and makes the prettiest sound, and then that's all Arthur can take. He surges up and kisses Merlin, a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, broken by their pants and moans; he grabs at Merlin's shoulders, digs his heels into the bed and starts to fuck up into Merlin fast and rough. Merlin melts against him, his whole body relaxing, and Arthur gives up any control he had left.

 

It's not long after that; Arthur's thigh are beginning to burn from the exertion, and he's holding on to Merlin so hard that his fingers are beginning to cramp, and he thinks he may stay permanently glued to Merlin, and he still _can't stop_ , not even long enough to change the position. Merlin's mouth is slack against his, his tongue lazily playing with Arthur’s through the broken little sounds he keeps breathing into Arthur's mouth, and that's when Arthur can't take it anymore, he pulls Merlin down onto his cock as he pushes up and all the air leaves his lungs as he comes. He rides it out with a few more slow thrusts, grunting against Merlin's cheek as his head falls to rest on Merlin's shoulder.

 

When the ringing in his ears stops, he becomes aware of the fact that Merlin is talking. “Keep going,” he's saying, Arthur realizes when he focuses a little. He opens his eyes and sees that Merlin is jerking himself off fast, his hand moving furiously over his flushed cock. Arthur gives an experimental thrust up, delighting in the way it makes Merlin's hand stutter. He's tired, but still mostly hard so he fucks Merlin slowly, gently, a contrast to the way Merlin is touching himself which seems to be working. He can't manage it for long though, so instead he covers Merlin's hand with his own, lacing their fingers and letting Merlin guide him.

 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Merlin hisses in his ear moments before his whole body seizes up and he spills over Arthur's chest, a few drops landing on Arthur's chin. “Fuck,” he breathes again when he finishes. He pulls himself up a little so Arthur's no soft cock slips out of him with an awful wet noise. Merlin makes a face, but Arthur chuckles. “That,” Merlin says, his voice breaking on the word. He laughs breathlessly, licks his lips. “That,” he tries again; he only sounds moderately less like he's just been thoroughly fucked, “was actually pretty good.”

 

Arthur snorts. “Worth repeating?”

 

Merlin leans in to kiss him, a sweet and chaste brush of lips. “Maybe,” he whispers, pulling back. His breathing is still not back to normal though. Arthur steals another kiss before Merlin can roll over to the bed and let Arthur get up.

 

“Ugh, I'm a mess,” Arthur complains, looking down at himself. He stands up and heads for the bathroom to clean up.

 

“Sorry!” Merlin yells cheerful after him. He doesn't sound sorry at all.

 

~*~

 

Merlin leans into Arthur heavily as they walk through the park. Arthur pulls him in closer with the arm around his waist.

 

“You know, I appreciate the romantic aspect of this,” Merlin says, turning his head and kissing the side of Arthur's neck, “but I hope to god you are not talking to me.”

 

Arthur turns so his lips are just brushing Merlin's forehead and mouths, “I'm not.”

 

“Good,” Merlin replies. “Not in the mood for talking anyway.”

 

They walk in silence until Merlin asks Arthur to take him back home. It's not exactly _uncomfortable_ , but it _is_ frustrating because while Arthur understands that Merlin is missing Gwaine (who was only too happy to accept a job on a cruiser and sailed out 11 days ago), he wants Merlin focused on him. It's selfish, and he can hear Morgana's voice in his head lecturing him, so he doesn't say anything, but he can't help wishing Merlin and Gwaine perhaps weren't that close, wishing Merlin was in the same stupidly romantic mood as him. He sighs. Merlin doesn't appear to notice.

 

Arthur parks the car in front of Merlin's building. Even though they've been dating for almost five weeks now, Arthur has never been in Merlin's apartment. He's driven Merlin home many times, but Merlin's never invited him in. Arthur tries not to be offended. He gets out of the car and goes over to the other side to open Merlin's door, but Merlin is already closing the door himself.

 

“Told you, not a 17th century lady you need to court,” he teases. He looks tired, Arthur suddenly notices, the dimmed lights casting deep shadows over his face and showing the bags under his eyes. Any irritation Arthur might have been feeling disappears when he pulls Merlin into a hug. “Come up with me, please,” Merlin mumbles into Arthur's chest. Arthur nods excessively, knowing Merlin will feel the movement. Merlin's arms snake around Arthur, pressing tightly against his back, like Merlin is trying to hide inside him.

 

It's weird, because Merlin is a little taller than him and is actually quite strong; feeling Merlin shake in his arms is not something Arthur likes. He doesn't let go of Merlin until they're up on the third floor and Merlin is unlocking the door to his apartment. It's a small place, but being on two levels makes it appear larger, leaving the entire bottom level for a spacious living room with just a small cooking and dining area. Merlin locks the door behind them and touches two switches to the side of the door. The first one has the lights on, but nothing happens when Merlin presses the second one.

 

“It's for the…I call them notice lights,” Merlin answers the unvoiced question. “My doorbell and phone and, really, everything that relies on sound is connected to a light bulb that informs me something is happening.”

 

Arthur looks around and sees little light bulbs all over the apartment, in places that can be seen easily but where there's no need for extra light. He admires the creative solution Merlin's come up with.

 

“Gwaine installed it for me,” Merlin says, taking off his hoodie and draping it over a chair. Arthur watches as his muscles move under the relatively tight black t-shirt he's wearing. He wants to reach out and trace every line of Merlin's body with his fingers and lips and tongue, but instead he just bows his head and takes off his shoes. He's not sure what Merlin wants him to do there, so he stands next to a coffee table, confused. “I'm gonna take a shower,” Merlin tells him, looking over at Arthur. A fond smile lights up his face and he steps forward to give Arthur a chaste kiss on the lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he whispers before leaving.

 

Arthur briefly considers following him upstairs, but decides against it simply because he doesn't quite feel comfortable enough to do that and risk crossing some boundaries he is not aware of. He sits on the beige two-seat sofa. It's soft and comfortable and Arthur feels like he's sinking into a cloud, sitting on it. It's only when he has to sit back up to take the remote form the coffee table that he realizes just how tired he is. He turns the TV on to something random (it's not his fault his fingers just so happen to stop working when he sees _Police Women of Broward County_ ). He hopes Merlin won't mind his sleeping on the sofa because he doesn't think he could get out of it if his life depended on it. His legs are tingling and his back _hurts_ , god damn it. He wants to put his feet up, but he's been raised better than to put them on someone's table, no matter how inviting it is. Then he notices an ottoman stashed under the coffee table. He sends a silent blessing to Gwaine's terrible habits and Merlin's desire to please.

 

He wonders how tired Merlin must be when he comes home at the end of a long day. It must be even more difficult for him, Arthur reasons. Not just because he's living in a world that is not always ready for him, but even more so because he knows Merlin tries so hard to always be cheerful, to never let anything bring him down, which must be difficult. Arthur has been there and he knows what Merlin is doing. Pretend long and hard enough and you become who you pretend to be. It's a sound logic, but it's exhausting, Arthur should know. That's how he became as strong as everyone thinks he is. He wonders how much of the Merlin he's seeing is actually him and how much is a mask. One day, Merlin will tell him, he concludes. It's just how Merlin is, and that much Arthur knows is real.

 

His feet now up and his body in a mostly reclined position, Arthur is much more comfortable. Also, much less likely to stay awake. His head lolls back against the sofa and he only vaguely continues to follow the chase on the screen. He can feel that he's drifting off to the faint sound of Merlin's shower.

 

When he startles awake he's still on the sofa. There's a soft brown blanket over him and he's somehow managed to lose his pants. Merlin is pressed to his side, snoring softly, his temple resting against Arthur's and his hand on Arthur's arm. Arthur decides he doesn't have to get up yet.

 

~*~

 

Gwen licks the sauce off her finger. Arthur has given up on chopsticks and is now cleaning out his container of Chinese takeout with a fork. He finishes his wine; he's lost count on how many glasses he's had. Gwen is swirling her whiskey a little shakily.

 

“It's weird when Morgana is not around, isn't it?” she comments. “Feels emptier somehow.”

 

“It _is_ emptier,” Arthur says with a laugh, “she packs like she's travelling around the world and not to the country next door.”

 

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Gwen drawls. She's beginning to slur her words, which Arthur finds very funny. “Oh, have I told you? Lancelot is going to Nepal next week. Fucking _Doctors Without Borders_.”

 

Arthur takes the wine bottle from the table and goes to fill his glass, then thinks better of it and takes a pull directly from the bottle. He's not sure why he ever even drinks with Gwen, she's such a solemn, morose drunk. He just wants to laugh and cuddle when he's buzzed on alcohol.

 

“We're probably gonna do a goodbye party. I assume you'll be there?”

 

“Yeah, just tell me when and where,” he replies. He likes Lancelot. Lancelot is fun.

 

She nods and then knocks back the rest of her drink. “So you and Merlin? How's that?” she asks, looking at the bottom of her tumbler like it holds the answer to the meaning of life. The thick glass makes her face look disproportionate, it's funny.

 

“It's good,” Arthur says, dragging out the last syllable. “Gwaine's in town again for a few days. They're going out tonight.” Arthur kind of wishes he was with them. He loves Gwen, he does, but Merlin is always so warm and pliant and ready to cuddle. And Gwaine is, well, he's a teddy bear. Arthur can't imagine he wouldn't be down with joining in a group hug or something more. Arthur wouldn't mind, Gwaine is nice and fun and attractive and he smells good. He's sure Merlin would like Gwaine to join them, he thinks a little bitterly.

 

“Arthur Pendragon, are you _jealous_?” Gwen gawks at him reaching blindly to the side and grabbing the whiskey bottle.

 

“I am _not_ jealous.”

 

“Aww, you are _so_ jealous,” Gwen giggles, also deciding to do away with the glass.

 

“Yeah, all right, maybe a little,” Arthur admits, taking a long gulp from his bottle. He wishes Merlin was there so they could sit close together and kiss and hug and maybe make out. Yes, that would be nice. He scoots closer to Gwen until their sides are touching. She puts an arm around his shoulders. “I'm not jealous that he's... spending time with Merlin or anything. And I don't think something will happen between them, I mean, I trust Merlin and he says they're over, but...” He thinks about it. “Gwaine knows more about my own boyfriend than I do,” he complains. It sounds like he has a hot potato in his mouth. He laughs.

 

“Well, ask Merlin stuff... and things,” she suggests.

 

“I don't want him to feel like... I'm questioning him or something?” He snuggles closer to Gwen. The bottle of wine is slipping from his fingers so he puts it down. He feels a bit like a baby – he's eaten, he's drunk and now he's sleepy.

 

“Or you know, maybe it doesn't really matter,” Gwen continues like he didn't say anything, “maybe Merlin doesn't care if you don't know _stuff_ about him. Maybe he cares if you know _him_. And you have to remember – he's with you; he _chose_ you. It's an important thing, to be chosen.”

 

“I'm way too drunk for this conversation,” Arthur moans.

 

~*~

 

Merlin pushes him into the apartment, his hands strong on Arthur's shoulders. Arthur stumbles backwards, still unfamiliar with the exact layout of Merlin's apartment. Merlin holds him up, pulling on Arthur's wrist and bringing him closer. Arthur's lips are starting to tingle from how long and how hard Merlin's been kissing him.

 

“ _What_ has gotten into you?” Arthur mumbles.

 

Merlin pulls away just enough to see Arthur's face and looks at him expectantly. “Hmmm?”

 

“What's up with you today?” Arthur repeats, enunciating every word carefully.

 

Merlin waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Are you complaining?” he asks, but then goes back to kissing Arthur without waiting for an answer. And, well, okay, Arthur is not complaining.

 

Merlin holds Arthur's bottom lip between his teeth a little harshly when he pulls on it as he moves from Arthur's face to his neck. He kisses, then bites high on the side of Arthur's neck, right under his ear. His hands on Arthur's hips push Arthur further back, until Arthur's ass is pressing against the back of the sofa. He keeps Arthur there, pinning his body down by pressing against him. Arthur is not used to Merlin being this controlling, so it throws him for a loop; he lets Merlin take control, lets his head fall back and his hands rest on Merlin's upper arms and offers no resistance when Merlin kicks his legs apart, then slips in between them.

 

They haven't been to Merlin's place in a few days and the AC has been off, so the living room is hot and humid, making Arthur sweat. He starts to unbutton his shirt but Merlin bats his hands away. He guides Arthur's hands down his own body, pushing one to his back and pressing the other to the front of his jeans. They're open, so Arthur's hand slides into them, his fingers wrapping around the familiar length of Merlin's cock. Merlin moans, his head falling to Arthur's shoulder, his hair tickling Arthur's neck. His hips push forward, pressing their bodies closer together again. There's not enough space between them for Arthur to move his hand; instead, he squeezes Merlin through the cotton of his underwear rhythmically and listens to the hitches in Merlin's breathing. Merlin's breath on his neck is warm and Merlin's fingers on his stomach, under his shirt, are curling, his nails biting into Arthur's skin.

 

Arthur's free hand runs down Merlin's back, his fingers dipping under the loose waistband of Merlin's jeans. Merlin arches his back a little, pushes against one of Arthur's hands, then the other, kisses Arthur's shoulder. Arthur pushes Merlin's jeans down (they're tight and they only bunch up around Merlin's thighs, but whatever, Arthur got what he wanted). His hand moulds perfectly to the curve of Merlin's ass, like it belongs there permanently; his fingers dip between Merlin's cheeks, the fabric of Merlin's briefs offering little resistance. Merlin takes a deep, loud breath, lifting his head to face Arthur.

 

“I have a condom somewhere in my jacket,” Arthur says.

 

“Mmm, good idea,” Merlin replies, licking his lips before pressing them to Arthur's, “but not today.”

 

Merlin's knees hit the floor before Arthur has the time or wherewithal to respond. Merlin's fingers are practiced at undoing Arthur's belt and unzipping his trousers, pulling them down to Arthur's knees. Merlin shoves his face into Arthur's crotch, his mouth already open and his hands holding Arthur's shirt up and out of the way. Arthur grips the back of the sofa he's leaning against with both hands.

 

Merlin's mouth is warm on the base of Arthur's cock and when he runs them up over the underside, Arthur can feel the slight press of Merlin's teeth and even through his underwear he can swear he feels Merlin actually drooling. His head falls back and his mouth opens on a groan. Merlin's mouth closes around the head of Arthur's cock and he sucks hard; Arthur's hips buck up and the sofa behind him moves the slightest bit backwards.

 

Merlin lets go of Arthur's shirt; it falls back over Arthur's stomach, immediately sticking to the sweaty skin. Merlin's hands tickle gently low over Arthur's stomach, the ever cold tips of his fingers teasing at the waistband of Arthur's boxers before pulling them down roughly. Arthur grunts when the elastic band scratches over his cock. He looks down to find Merlin staring up at him with a lopsided smile. Merlin's hands are still on Arthur's thighs, holding his boxers low enough that the elastic is caught right under the head of Arthur's cock. Arthur has just enough time to realize what Merlin is about to do before it happens.

 

When Merlin pulls Arthur's underwear all the way down, Arthur's cock springs up, hitting lightly under Merlin's chin. Merlin's expecting it, doesn't even blink when it happens, but for some reason Arthur finds it exceptionally hot; he can't help but moan. He cradles the back of Merlin's head, his thumb slotting in behind Merlin's ear and pressing down. Merlin's eyes flutter closed.

 

“Come on, do it,” he whispers. “Do it. I knew you'd want to.”

 

Arthur groans, half turned on and half frustrated. He holds himself lightly, guides it over Merlin's bottom lip. Merlin's mouth opens, but only slightly, like he is just innocently kissing Arthur (as innocently as one can look with a hard cock in front of their face). Merlin's tongue peeks out briefly, the tip of it just touching Arthur's heated flesh before it's gone. He's provoking Arthur on purpose, Arthur knows and god damn it, but it works like a charm.

 

Arthur's fingers tighten into a perfect ring; he pulls on his cock once, twice, his hand a little rough without any lubrication. His face burns as he pushes his cock to the side, then lets it fall back to its place, just catching on Merlin's cheek. Merlin hums, then moves a little forward.

 

“Come on,” he says, his voice a little rough this time. If it weren't so hot, and if Arthur wasn't so turned on, he'd wonder how much of Merlin's enjoyment was coming from Arthur's excitement, but as is, he could hardly care less.

 

He holds himself again, this time very deliberately slapping right under Merlin's cheekbone. Merlin's lips part wider and he makes a small sound. He does it again, and then again, before moving on to Merlin's other cheek, more confident with every blow and every quiet moan that escapes from Merlin's chest. With his other hand, he tilts Merlin's head up. Merlin's eyes are half open and slightly unfocused and he's breathing hard. Merlin on his knees is a thing to behold so Arthur takes a moment to just look – Merlin's hands are on his thighs, balled up in fists; he's hard, his erection straining against his briefs; his t-shirt has ridden up to reveal muscles twitching.

 

The way Merlin's face is tilted now allows Arthur easier access; the look Merlin gives him before his eyes close again takes away any leftover self-consciousness Arthur may have. He wraps his fist around his cock, lets the head rest on Merlin's open mouth before giving in to what he wants. His hand is fast, like he's done this a thousand times before, as he guides his cock left and right, letting it fall on Merlin's face just hard enough to colour his skin pink. He only stops, letting go of himself and leaving his cock resting just to the side of Merlin's mouth, when he sees Merlin's hand pressing between his legs.

 

“One day,” Merlin says and Arthur can feel Merlin's lips moving, “I want you to come on my face.” Arthur sucks in a surprised breath. “And then spread it all over me with your cock.” Arthur pulls on Merlin's hair in a warning. Merlin grins at him mischievously. He sits up on his knees, runs his hands over the outside of Arthur's thighs; one of his hands holds Arthur's hip, while the other trails in between Arthur's legs. Arthur leans back against the sofa again and parts his legs to give Merlin better access.

 

Merlin's fingers just graze over Arthur's balls, too teasing of a touch to feel good, before Merlin holds Arthur's cock steady and licks a stripe slowly up the underside. He swirls his tongue around the crown, then teases over the slit. Arthur is torn between letting his head fall back to just enjoy and keeping his eyes on Merlin because, god, Merlin's expression of utter bliss makes everything feel twice as good.

 

When Merlin takes Arthur into his mouth, Arthur curses under his breath and can't stop himself from pushing forward. Merlin's fingers dig into his hip, an unnecessary warning, because Arthur is already pulling back out, stroking his thumb over Merlin's neck in apology. Merlin doesn't rush, pulling back before swallowing more of Arthur's cock down. Arthur grips the back of the sofa and closes his eyes, his head falling forward, a moan getting stuck in his throat. Merlin focuses his mouth on the upper part of Arthur's cock, sucking and licking, his head moving slowly up and down. His hand moves faster over the base, the spit easing the way a little.

 

Arthur's fingers in Merlin's hair tighten and pull when Merlin pauses to tease at the head with his tongue. Arthur's whole body shivers and he feels a wave of heat wash over him. The sweat is running down his neck and back and the humidity is getting more oppressive by the second. Arthur wants to rip his shirt off, but he's having a hard time freeing either of his hand when Merlin is making his knees shake. Besides, there's something to be said about the only thing he can see not covered by his shirt is more and more of his cock disappearing into Merlin's mouth.

 

When Merlin's lips meet his fist, he uncurls his fingers and his hand falls out of sight. Arthur lets go of Merlin's head, putting his palm on the side of Merlin's neck, runs his thumb over Merlin's Adam's apple. He knows that if he touches further up, if he presses his hand to the side of Merlin's face, he will be able to feel himself inside. His hips buck forward again, but this time Merlin's hand on his hip stays loose and the noise Merlin makes is a positive one. Arthur pulls back, then pushes into Merlin's mouth again, slowly, giving Merlin more than enough time to stop him. Eventually, Merlin does.

 

Merlin's hand moves to Arthur's front, pressing on his stomach to keep him immobile, locks eyes with Arthur's. He bobs his head slowly several times until at one downward stroke, he doesn't stop, taking in as much as he can. Arthur feels it when the head of his cock hits the back of Merlin's throat and Merlin doesn't try to take him further, just sucks lightly, his tongue twitching against the underside of Arthur's cock. Arthur strokes his thumb over Merlin's neck, feeling the slight swell at the front. He touches Merlin's relaxed jaw, presses his fingers to Merlin's bottom lip, gathering some spit, then smearing it over Merlin's cheek when he puts his hand on the side of his face. Merlin is looking up at him, his face glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead.

 

Arthur puts his other hand on Merlin's shoulder. He can feel the muscles under his palm moving rhythmically, and he can imagine Merlin's hand working his cock inside his briefs; he knows what Merlin likes, the pressure, the slow, steady strokes until the very end when he seems to completely lose control. He hums, imagining the way he would touch Merlin now if he could reach him, prolonging it as much as he can, until Merlin's cock is coated in his own pre-come. Merlin sucks harder.

 

He can feel it, Arthur realizes, the vibrations of every sound Arthur makes, the speed of his breathing, the things he wouldn't normally know were happened. He takes Merlin's wrist and moves it up, undoes two buttons so Merlin's hand can rest on his skin. He hums again and Merlin's hand twitches.

 

He looks at Merlin again. Merlin's eyes are glazed over, his eyes a little moist and spit dripping out of his mouth. He moans loudly and gets a deep, guttural sound from Merlin in answer. It's almost like Merlin's forgotten that Arthur was even responding to him.

 

Merlin's breathing is shallow and rough and when he finally moves back, Arthur hears him take a deep breath through his nose. It doesn't slow him down though, and he's sucking Arthur down again in no time, before pulling back. Every time he takes as much as he can and pauses, until there are actual tears in his eyes, and every time his tongue teases at the crown. Arthur moans loudly, knowing Merlin can feel it; he sees it in Merlin's eyes whenever Merlin looks up at him.

 

He's getting close now; he squeezes Merlin's wrist twice, before he rests his hand on top of Merlin's head. Merlin's eyes are closed again, so he doesn't know if Merlin got the message, but even if he didn't, Arthur's breathing so hard, Merlin is bound to figure out. Merlin himself has stopped worrying about technique, it appears, his head moving up and down fast and without a break. There's no rhythm anymore, not much control either, as Arthur's cock hits Merlin's throat completely randomly. Arthur can see that Merlin's jerking off fast as well, and he wants to last long enough to see Merlin come first, but then he sinks into Merlin's mouth again, and again, and then he can't help pushing forward, too fast and a little too hard; Merlin groans, his eyes flying open and a tear running down his cheek.

 

They both freeze instantly. Arthur is the first to move, brushing the tear away with his thumb slowly, feeling as if he's in a surreal dream, held in place by Merlin's eyes. Merlin blinks, breaking the spell and then swallows around Arthur's cock. Arthur shouts wordlessly, his knees shaking and his stomach muscles squeezing hard as he comes, pleasant shockwaves going through him. Merlin pulls away, swallowing twice to take everything even as he lets Arthur slip out of his mouth before he's done (on purpose, Arthur suspects, because it leaves a string of come connecting his lips to Arthur's cock, then landing on Merlin's chin as it breaks).

 

Arthur turns around and leans over the back of the sofa because he's not sure he can stand for much longer. He can hear Merlin moving behind him and then Merlin's hands are on Arthur's ass, squeezing and spreading him. Arthur is buzzed from the high of his orgasm and his body feels too heavy to move, so he's happy not to take a more active part and let Merlin use him any way he wants; something Merlin seems all too happy to do. One of Merlin's hands stays on Arthur's overly warm skin, sliding easily through the sweat gathering in the small of Arthur's back to press him down hard. The wet head of Merlin's cock brushes over Arthur's crack and Arthur moans weakly into the sofa cushions. Merlin's cock is unsteady against Arthur's sensitive skin and Arthur can just about hear the sound of wet skin sliding together over the hum in his ears. He doesn't have to wait long before Merlin groans through his nose and the thick, warm come hits Arthur's ass. It's an odd feeling when it runs over his hole, dripping down to his balls. Arthur hums to himself, trying to decide if he likes it.

 

He expects Merlin to lie down on top of him, at least until they've both caught their breaths, but Merlin only wipes his cock on Arthur's ass, and then he's gone.

 

“Hey!” Arthur yells after him, a little offended that he feels kind of like he's being thrown away after having served his purpose. Merlin, naturally, doesn't respond, nor does Arthur expect him to, but it feels good to shout for shouting's sake. His legs still feel unstable so he doesn't get up, but he does turn around on his back. It's not as comfortable, but at least he has a better view.

 

Merlin's jeans and underwear are on the railing and Merlin himself is in the kitchen, wiping himself with his t-shirt, soaked in water. He doesn't even look in Arthur's direction. Arthur groans as he forces his muscles to work for long enough to get him off the sofa. He stumbles out of his trousers and takes his shirt off over his head, letting them all lie where they fall. Now that the scalding heat and urgency has passed, he feels rather sore and tired. He sticks his hand between the cushions of the sofa to dig out the AC remote and finally turn on the damn thing. Then he heads upstairs to take a shower, picking up Merlin's clothes on the way.

 

There is a towel for him in the bathroom and a clean pair of boxers. He puts them aside so they don't get wet and steps into the shower. He turns the tap to cold and lets the water run. Initially, it's a shock to his system, but when he gets used to it, it feels amazing. The cool touch makes him feel not only clean, but fresh and awake. With his head bowed forward, he counts the drops of water falling from the tip of his nose. When he gets to 100, he turns the water to a warmer temperature, washes quickly with one of Merlin's earthy-smelling shower gels.

 

The towel Merlin left for him is fluffy and soft and when Arthur wraps it around himself and dries his hair with the corner of it, he's hit with the citrusy smell of the fabric softener. He hangs the towel over the open door of the shower cabin and puts on Merlin's underwear. It's a little tight, but only a little, prompting Arthur to think, unhappily, that it might not actually be Merlin's at all. He shrugs off the unwelcome idea and goes to Merlin's bedroom in search of something comfortable to wear. He wonders if it's too early for him to start bringing his own stuff and leaving it there accidentally on purpose.

 

He expects Merlin to be downstairs (probably eating; for such a skinny bastard, Merlin has quite a passion for food, and especially enjoys a snack after sex), but the sliding glass door to the balcony is open and Arthur can just make out Merlin's leg, as the rest of him is hidden by the bedroom wall. He reaches for the closet and almost opens it, but then he decides it's still too warm for clothes.

 

Merlin is sitting in the corner of the balcony, where the railing is broken and the frosted glass does not obscure the view of the city. He's naked. His legs are folded tightly to his chest, his head resting on his knees. There's a cigarette in his hand.

 

“You don't smoke,” is, stupidly, the first thing that comes to Arthur's mind. “And you really shouldn't be sitting there,” is the second, but he says it more to himself. Merlin either hasn't noticed him or is simply not responding. For some reason that he can't even make clear to himself, Arthur feels like he's intruding on a very private moment. He stands awkwardly for a few moments, feeling like he _should_ leave but _wants_ to stay. Eventually, Merlin takes pity on him (Arthur belatedly realizes there are metal rims on the fence where the glass used to be and that his reflection is probably obvious in them).

 

“Sit,” Merlin says, light grey smoke curling out between his lips. He takes another drag from the cigarette and exhales the smoke before Arthur takes him up on the offer.

 

He sits down close to Merlin, fully intending for their bodies to be touching, both for comfort and for safety, but Merlin moves further to the side, maintaining the minimal distance between them. Arthur doesn't want to be offended. But somehow, he is. It feels like rejection.

 

“I don't smoke,” Merlin says, taking another drag before waving his hand in Arthur's general direction. Despite clear evidence to contradict Merlin's statement, Arthur nods. “I used to,” Merlin continues. His voice is very hoarse, although whether from smoking or their earlier activities, Arthur doesn't know. “I quit two or three years ago.” He shakes the ash off absently. “I have a smoke once in a while only. For old times' sake.” He smiles as he brings the cigarette back to his lips. It's an odd, empty kind of smile. Haunting. Arthur looks away, his stomach dropping. He's getting cold despite the lukewarm evening. Merlin lets one of his legs fall to dangle off the side of the balcony. Seeing it from the corner of his eye, Arthur instinctively reaches out, but takes his hand back before he touches Merlin. There's a reason Merlin's keeping the distance between them. “D'you know what today is?” Merlin asks suddenly, turning his head a little to the side.

 

“Um. Tuesday?” Arthur tries.

 

“It's my birthday.”

 

Arthur panics. This is a kind of thing he was supposed to know, he feels. Instead, not only is he not prepared for a birthday at all, but he also doesn't think he _forgot_ it was coming up; he's pretty sure he never really knew.

 

Like he knows what Arthur is thinking, Merlin says quickly, “I don't celebrate it.” He takes one last drag from his cigarette, then puts it out on the ground and flicks the butt over the edge.

 

“How come?” Arthur asks when Merlin's looking at him again.

 

“How old do you think I am?” Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking a little amused and Arthur realizes, he doesn't actually have an answer. It never really occurred to him to ask for Merlin's age, he's always just assumed his original estimates were right.

 

“24-25?”

 

Merlin chuckles. He looks away from Arthur, so Arthur doesn't bother asking what's so funny. “Most people assume that. I look younger than I am. And, well, I'm only just finishing university now, so... Usually I just let people assume whatever they want and don't correct them,” Merlin explains. “But, I'm actually 32 as of today.”

 

“Holy fuck,” Arthur curses. The age difference Arthur assumed was there was right, only it's in Merlin's favour. It's quite a shock. And what is worse, Arthur is not sure he would have ever thought to ask such a banal question as _how old are you_.

 

“I don't tell people how old I am because, well, they always have questions. Why don't you have a real job? Why do you let people think you're younger? Why don't you have a degree yet?” Merlin sounds nervous of all things; like he's thought about this before but is saying it out loud for the first time. “They have expectations of someone my age and I don't fulfill them. And I don't feel like explaining why.”

 

Arthur is mildly ashamed of the fact that he does want to ask those questions now. He doesn't, because it's a dick move to pull when he knows how much Merlin clearly dislikes answering them, but he still wants to know.

 

Merlin moves around gracefully, sitting Indian style with no shame and it's only when he feels the relief that Arthur realizes how anxious he was about Merlin sitting in a fairly precarious position so close to the edge of his 6th floor balcony with nothing to stop him from falling but his own sense of balance. They're still not touching, but Arthur's actually fine with that; he's not sure he particularly _wants_ to be sitting closer right now.

 

Looking back now, with the new knowledge, he can see the little steps in Merlin's brilliant plan. Early on, Merlin avoids topics and conversations that would reveal his age, doesn't ask others for theirs so that he wouldn't be asked in turn, until he's known someone for so long, they feel awkward asking for his age. And when they do find out how old he is, he can always say that it's not his fault they guessed it wrong. It's quite a neat technique; Arthur has to admit, creating a loop in which Merlin can't be blamed. Arthur still feels lied to, though.

 

“I actually...” Merlin takes a deep breath. “Man, I wish I had another cigarette now,” he jokes. Arthur doesn't laugh. Merlin takes another moment. “Graphic design, yes?” he finally continues. “It wasn't my first choice. I was, um, I was studying music production originally.” Arthur's head snaps up. It's the first he's heard of that. “Third year, everything was... It was great. I was good, always in the top 5 percent of the class, I was working part-time on musicals in the local theatre, I had an offer from fucking Julliard. Too good to be true, huh?” Merlin sighs. Arthur thinks he has an inkling as to where the story is going. “There was a time, right? And then it all went wrong.” Arthur feels like he's missing something, but he doesn't react.

 

Merlin's fingers are drumming on his shin and his knee is jumping quickly up and down. Arthur doesn't know if he's ever seen Merlin like this. He wonders if Merlin's ever told anyone everything like this, because it feels more like he's only there to be a witness to Merlin's soliloquy than like Merlin's actually talking to him. He'll take it though, because these are things that he wants to know about Merlin.

 

“The end of the school year was coming up and I was working with our drama section and it was, it was just a very stressful week. I wasn't sleeping much, I always felt like I had _so much_ to do and so little time, and--” Merlin waves a hand around in an unidentifiable gesture. “I didn't notice it at first? I'd get dizzy or have a moment's black out and I figured it was the exhaustion. I'd hear this, this high-pitched sort of buzz the whole time but I thought it was just stress getting to me. And then I woke up one morning and I couldn't hear a thing.”

 

Arthur can't imagine what that is like. Sometimes he observes Merlin in social situations and he admires how well adjusted Merlin is; he doesn't think he could do that. Except right now, Merlin doesn't look so adapted and unconcerned. He looks like someone missing an important part of their life. He looks like someone who has long given up on getting it back.

 

“I know, I know, deaf people have been known to work with music, I've heard of Beethoven as well,” Merlin replies to what Arthur didn't even think to say. “And I tried, trust me, I really did try to go on like everything was fine, but... It wasn't and I eventually dropped out.”

 

In the privacy of his own mind, Arthur admits to himself, guiltily, that he's glad he didn't know Merlin back then. Even now, years later, when Merlin has clearly more or less put it all behind him, Arthur has no clue how to react. Fortunately for him, it doesn't seem to matter much – Merlin is somewhere in his own world, lost in his own thoughts or memories; for once in his life, Arthur is glad to be an outsider.

 

“I was 22. I had no idea what I was doing. I was drinking, smoking. I did some things I'm not necessarily proud of,” Merlin admits. “I was a mess,” he says simply, shrugging. “I don't know why Gwaine stuck with me. I wouldn't have.” Arthur wants to argue that that's not true, Merlin is the kind of person who sticks with his friends no matter what, but he lets the matter drop, sensing it's not the right time. “If it weren't for him, I probably would have... slipped completely.”

 

Merlin scrubs a hand over his face, then looks sideways at Arthur for the first time in what fees like a while, like he's gauging Arthur's reaction. Arthur appreciates the explanation, but it still does make him slightly jealous. He's careful not to show it.

 

“Anyway,” Merlin continues, squaring his shoulders like he's bracing himself for something. “It wasn't a good time. I felt like all I ever wanted to do, all I was ever good at... I couldn't anymore.” Arthur ventures a hand in Merlin's direction, touching his knee with the tips of his fingers first, before putting a hand on his thigh. Merlin looks at him. “Pure coincidence I even found out I could draw. We were at a bar and I was drunk. I doodled on a napkin, this cute guy who was sitting next to me. Gwaine brought the napkin with us when we were leaving and showed it to me in the morning. After I was done puking my guts out,” Merlin says sheepishly, smiling a little. He looks more like himself. Arthur leans in and brushes their noses together.

 

“I'm not used to seeing you like this,” Arthur admits, feeling that it's only fair he shared something as well. “You always seem so... alright.”

 

Merlin laughs. “Yeah. Everyone has their bad moments, right? I choose to live out a year's worth of mine in a day. It works most of the time,” Merlin says, shrugging.

 

Arthur wants, foolishly, to make it so that there are no bad moments in Merlin's life, but that's not how it works and he's not naïve enough to think it is. “Okay,” he just replies instead. “I can live with that.”

 

~*~

 

Arthur swirls his whiskey around in the glass, absently staring at his own expression in the large wall mirror behind the bar. “There's just... _so much_ I still don't know about him,” he slurs. The thought of easing off the alcohol a bit flashes through his mind briefly, but then he finishes his drink off and doesn't think about it anymore.

 

“Well, you've only known each other for what, like, 8 months in total, right?” Leon asks, leaning casually against the bar. He doesn't look or sound nearly as drunk as Arthur, even though Arthur thinks they've had about the same number of drinks. But then, his count has been a little off recently so maybe not. “That's not _that_ long,” Leon argues, eyeing Arthur sideways.

 

“Yeah, but.” Arthur had an argument, he did. He's not sure why he can't remember it anymore.

 

“But?” Leon prompts.

 

“But there are things I _should_ know and I don't?” Arthur tries.

 

“Hmm, like?”

 

“Like, man, I just recently found out he was actually _older_ than me!” Arthur replies bitterly, miming for the bartender to give him another drink. He's not sure why he is still so upset over it.

 

“Because you never date men older than you,” Leon comments sarcastically, sneaking his hand in front of Arthur and grabbing the tumbler before the bartender can even set it down.

 

Arthur snorts.

 

“Which reminds me, did _you_ tell Merlin about Mr. Burke?”

 

“That's different,” Arthur argues, waving a hand around as if it will somehow disperse the memories. “My high school dating habits hardly have anything to do with our relationship.”

 

“And Merlin's age does?”

 

“Well, duh,” Arthur says making a face at Leon. Leon looks unimpressed. He raises an eyebrow, his expression one part teasing, one part disbelief and at least three parts done with Arthur's bullshit tonight. “Fine, not really,” Arthur concedes. “But what else don't I know that _might_ matter?”

 

“Arthur, you are my friend and I love you,” Leon says in a tone of someone explaining apples and oranges to a child, “but I am not your therapist and you need to work on your communication.” He knocks back Arthur's drink and pushes off from the counter. “Come on, we both have work tomorrow.”

 

Arthur sighs grumpily but puts a bill on the counter and follows Leon.

 

~*~

 

Arthur stirs the milk into his tea. The morning newsreader keeps chirping on the radio behind him. He's tempted to punch the radio. He doesn't even know why Merlin has one at all, but he appreciates the fact that, ever since Arthur off-handedly mentioned that he listens to the weather forecast every morning on his way to work, Merlin's been turning the radio on every morning Arthur's at his place.

 

“Morgana asked me to come with her to Hannover,” Merlin says. He's sitting Indian style on the kitchen bar in front of Arthur eating his second grilled cheese sandwich. Arthur will never understand how some people have an appetite (and a good one at that) this early in the morning.

 

“That's... next week, right?” Arthur asks after a brief moment of his mind being completely blank of any future planned trips.

 

Merlin hums in confirmation. He reaches a hand out towards Arthur. For a second, Arthur is confused, but then he remembers he poured a glass of orange juice for Merlin and forgot to give it to him. He picks the glass up from his side and hands it to Merlin. Merlin nods at him and takes a few sips. When his eyes are on Arthur's face again, Arthur asks, “Are you gonna go?”

 

“I don't know yet,” Merlin replies. “I told her I'd talk to you.”

 

“To me? Why?”

 

“Because you're my boss, of course,” Merlin says, completely deadpan. Arthur frowns. Merlin rolls his eyes. “I wanted to see if you were fine with it, what's so weird about that?”

 

“I don't know. I'm fine with it.”

 

“Good, because I was gonna go anyway,” Merlin says with a laugh. He finishes his sandwich and Arthur takes that time to drink his tea. He doesn't even like tea. He's only been drinking it because it's the only hot drink he can have in Merlin's apartment.

 

The radio informs him it is likely to rain today. Since that's neither very precise nor new, Arthur finds himself wondering again why he even listens to the forecasts anymore. He supposes it's just a habit. He turns the radio off.

 

“I hate that thing,” Merlin comments.

 

Arthur laughs. “Why do you have it? Youdon't use it.”

 

“ _You_ do,” Merlin counters. “Personally, I prefer knowing what I'm supposed to be hearing,” he adds, jumping off the bar gracefully. He stretches, making a quiet sound. The faded green t-shirt he's wearing rides up, revealing a sliver of pale skin between it and Arthur's briefs that Merlin got to first that morning.

 

Arthur puts down his mug so he can grab Merlin's hips and pull him closer. Merlin goes easily, drapes his arms around Arthur's neck. He's smiling. There's a long, dark eyelash on his cheek. Arthur brushes it off with his thumb. Merlin turns his head to the side and kisses the inside of Arthur's wrist.

 

“Take a day off,” he says.

 

“Can't.”

 

“Why, your boss won't let you?” Merlin asks sweetly. Arthur laughs and shakes his head. Merlin brings their foreheads together and slides a hand under Arthur's shirt, pressing it gently to Arthur's lower back and pushing their bodies closer. Arthur knows that in the position they're in, Merlin won't know what he's saying. It's a very smooth way to avoid an argument.

 

Arthur hates doing it, but he runs his thumb down the line of Merlin's jaw until he reaches his chin, pushes it up to make Merlin face him. “I have to work,” he says.

 

Merlin sighs. “No, you _choose_ to have to work,” he replies. “But I understand. It's your father's legacy and you're still trying to impress him and it's the only thing other than your house that makes you feel connected to him and blah blah blah. You'll be late if you don't hurry up,” he finishes, waving his hands in the air as he walks away.

 

Arthur frowns at Merlin's back. It almost sounded like Merlin intended for that to sound as hurtful as it did.

 

~*~

 

Arthur closes the door to the office silently. He waits a few seconds, then clears his throat. Morgana raises a finger. She's writing something, filling out a stack of papers in front of her and signing off on things if the speed at which her well-manicured hand moves over the paper is any indication. Arthur pulls a chair out and sits down. It's a lot less comfortable than the chairs in his office.

 

While he waits for Morgana to finish up on her work, he looks around her office. It's been a while since he's been here. Nowadays, when he needs anything from the PR department he tends to send for Merlin, not visit Morgana. Her office doesn't look very different from what he remembers, the walls are the same light blue and the furniture the same shiny black. The framed, somewhat creepy line drawing of a woman's face, half-robot, half-human stares at him from the wall behind Morgana.

 

But there's another piece of framed art underneath it now, smaller in size but standing out because of the colour. From where Arthur is sitting it looks like a whimsical bird, flying up with wings spread, long emerald green and navy blue feathers curling out of its tail. The signature in the lower right corner looks suspiciously like Merlin's. Arthur feels a surge of irrational jealousy go through him at the thought that Morgana has Merlin's art hanging framed in her office when Arthur's work space bears no trace of his relationship with Merlin.

 

“What do you want?” Morgana asks sharply, her head still down, but her eyes no longer as focused.

 

Arthur clears his throat again before he opens her mouth to start speaking. But then he shuts up. He suddenly feels very embarrassed and wonders why he ever thought this was a good idea.

 

Morgana looks at him. “Arthur?” she asks, both of her eyebrows up. She looks tired and somehow older. Arthur is not sure why that takes him by surprise or how he didn't notice it earlier, but it's a shock when it hits him that they are both grown, independent and professional adults, even if they sometimes don't really act like it.

 

“Um, do you think I have a, um, problem with communication?”

 

He expects her to laugh, but she only smiles fondly at him. “It took you approximately 7 minutes to ask me that. What do you think?” she says. Arthur is not sure if he wants to laugh or be mad. In the end, he just stands to leave, already so far into his own head with all the thoughts of what he should and should _have_ said, that he almost misses Morgana's _he'll draw one for you too if you ask him_. Almost. He wonders if he's really that obvious to everyone but himself, or if Morgana just knows him that well.

 

~*~

 

Arthur rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. He hates it when he falls asleep in the afternoon, it always fucks with his sleeping pattern. Today will be no different, since it's almost 9 in the evening and he's just woken up. He pads into the bathroom and splashes cold water in his face, mentally preparing himself for going to bed at 3 in the morning and waking up a few hours after that.

 

He stares at his own face in the mirror. He looks tired, more tired than he did before he took a 4-hour nap if possible. He scrubs a hand over his face again. He wishes he could just go back to sleep, but he knows that's not happening. He opts for food instead and heads for the kitchen.

 

The house is quiet, which is hardly a surprise. Morgana is organizing an all girls' night at Gwen's place ( _Don't call me, not that you would, but don't anyway, we're gonna be doing our nails and I won't be answering my phone!_ ) so the lights are all out and neither of the TVs is on. Arthur is suddenly reminded that this house was meant and built for a family and neither him nor Morgana have any. He runs a hand through his hair and thinks about calling Merlin.

 

He finds some leftovers from a chicken lunch he made yesterday in the fridge and decides that they'll do just as well as anything else. Too impatient to wait for them to heat up, he leans against the sink and starts eating.

 

The light in the kitchen is bright enough that at first he doesn't even notice that the light in the smaller living room is also on. He frowns. Both him and Morgana prefer the left wing of the house and rarely venture into the part of the house their father used to occupy – it's highly unlikely she left the light on. Suddenly alert, Arthur hastily drops the half-empty plastic container into the sink and grabs a large knife from the drawer. He tiptoes towards the room. He can't hear anything happening in there.

 

He makes sure to stay hidden as he approaches the door from the side. He peeks into the room, not sure what to expect. Whatever it was though, that's not what he finds. Instead, he finds Merlin, lying on his stomach in the centre of the carpeted floor, propped up on his elbows and murmuring something under his breath.

 

“Fucking hell,” Arthur sighs in relief, putting the knife down on the chessboard by the door. He flicks the lights off and then on again, making Merlin turn around.

 

“Hey,” Merlin greets him cheerfully.

 

“You scared the fuck out of me!”

 

Merlin laughs. “Sorry. Morgana let me in before she left.” He pauses, cocks his head to the side. “You were sleeping and you looked so tired... I didn't want to wake you up.”

 

Arthur shrugs one shoulder and goes to join Merlin on the floor by what looks like a half-finished puzzle. He feels weird being in this room again, he doesn't think he's entered it in a few years. Of course, there is no way for Merlin to know that this was the place where Uther used to spend most time, so Arthur doesn't bring it up.

 

“What are you even doing here?” he can't resist asking.

 

“There was nothing on TV and I was looking for something to do. I ended up here.”

 

“Doing...” Arthur gestures at the scattered puzzle pieces around them. “Puzzles of all things?”

 

“I happen to like puzzles,” Merlin replies, putting another piece in its place.

 

“You're good at them too.”

 

Merlin chuckles. “No, I've just been here for hours.”

 

“It's 3,600 pieces and you've done more than half of it,” Arthur counters.

 

“Seriously, Arthur, _hours_.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It's okay,” Merlin says with a smile.

 

Arthur runs a hand down Merlin's spine and lets it settle just above Merlin's ass. “I'll make it up to you,” he says.

 

“Mmm, I'm sure we can work something out, yes,” Merlin agrees, leaning in for a kiss. It starts out chaste, Merlin's smile brushing against Arthur's lips, then grows into something more as Arthur licks his way into Merlin's mouth, a hand on Merlin's neck guiding him to lie down. Merlin tastes like that awful tea Arthur hates but buys every time he goes grocery shopping because Merlin drinks it religiously every morning and every evening. He climbs on top of Merlin and kisses him until they're both breathless and every trace of that taste is gone from Merlin's mouth.

 

“I hate that tea,” Arthur comments, running his thumb over Merlin's bottom lip.

 

“I know,” Merlin replies sweetly, poking Arthur in the ribs. Arthur lets out a very high-pitched scream that he will deny with his dying breath ever left his lips. “Oooh, ticklish,” Merlin sing-songs with a grin.

 

“No! No, no, no!”

 

It's too late though, Merlin is already tickling him with both hands and Arthur laughs a little hysterically, dragging Merlin's hands away from himself and holding them over Merlin's head, pressing them down against the unfinished puzzle. He's a little winded by the time Merlin stops squirming under him and the last of his giggles die down.

 

“No,” Arthur repeats for good measure.

 

Merlin pouts at him. His hands stay still where Arthur holds them, though. “You know, I think you may have ruined my work,” he says. “And I think I might have puzzle pieces in my hair,” he adds with a small giggle.

 

Arthur combs his fingers through Merlin's hair, dislocating two light green pieces. He laughs. “Yeah, yeah you do.” He lets go of Merlin's wrists and sits back, leaning against Merlin's knees. Merlin sits up with him, as if drawn to him. A few more puzzle pieces fall off from his arms. He reaches out and runs his fingers over Arthur's lips gently.

 

“You're so easy to read,” he says quietly, almost like he's still thinking about it. Arthur kisses the fingers still resting on his lips. Merlin smiles at him. “You enunciate so clearly. I... I bet you have a posh accent.”

 

“I've heard that, yes,” Arthur replies. He traces the shell of Merlin's ear with a finger.

 

“I wish I could hear it,” Merlin says wistfully. Arthur wonders if he should say something, his first instinct being to comfort, but if he's being honest, Merlin really doesn't look like he needs comforting. He looks like he's making conversation. Arthur's not sure he will ever get over the fact that lack of sound is just another normal part of life for Merlin. He can't imagine himself in Merlin's situation. “I'd tease you senseless about it,” Merlin adds, pulling Arthur back to the present.

 

“Like you don't already have enough ammo for that.”

 

“Hmmm, true,” Merlin agrees, poking at Arthur's ribs again.

 

“Hey!”

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur wakes up to a wet mouth sucking on his neck and fingers loosely wrapped around his cock, which seems to have woken up long before Arthur himself. Still dazed and slow with sleep, he raises a hand and places it on Merlin's forearm to stop him. “What are you doing?” he asks when Merlin looks at him.

 

“Waking you up,” Merlin replies, tightening his grip on the base of Arthur's cock. Arthur moans quietly.

 

“Okay, I'm awake,” he says, though his eyes are barely open. He thrusts experimentally into Merlin's hand, his hips lifting off the bed less than he'd intended.

 

“Good,” Merlin hums, dropping an open-mouthed kiss on Arthur's shoulder. “Because I'm horny and I want you to fuck me again,” he says simply, like he's talking about the weather. The words go straight to Arthur's cock.

 

“You're impossible to please,” Arthur complains. He guides Merlin's face up from his chest and goes to kiss him before remembering. “Wait, I haven't brushed my teeth.”

 

“Hm, neither have I,” Merlin replies plaintively. “Raincheck on the kissing?” he offers, his hand on Arthur's cock already moving again.

 

“I'll hold you to that,” Arthur agrees, turning on his side. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of Merlin lying on his stomach in Arthur's bed, completely unashamed in his nudity. He's looking at Arthur sideways, only half of his face visible while the other half is buried in Arthur's large pillows, and humping the bed, his whole body rolling against the sheets in a slow, but steady rhythm. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut and rolls over so he can hide his face in the pillow as well. It's even worse like that, because the pillows smell like sweat and sex and with their sides now pressed together Arthur can _feel_ Merlin moving. He moans into the pillow.

 

His arm naturally drapes over Merlin's back, his hand resting on Merlin's ass. Merlin makes a pleased little sound and raises his hips up in an invitation. Arthur lets his fingers slip between Merlin's cheeks and bites the pillow. Merlin hasn't showered and Arthur finds him still damp and a little slick with lube from a few hours ago. He probes at Merlin's hole with two fingers, testing to see how much preparation Merlin still needs, but his fingers sink inside with little resistance and Merlin moans loudly at the feeling.

 

“Oh my god,” Arthur mumbles into the pillow. He pumps his fingers in and out in a shallow motion a few times, before letting them sink inside as far as they can. “You have got to be kidding me,” he sighs into the pillow when he realizes that he can feel his own come inside. He turns his head to look at Merlin. Merlin's face is very close, still half-hidden; there's a flush high on his cheeks, his bottom lip is bitten red and his breathing is laboured, but his eyes are a clear blue focused on Arthur. “You're trying to kill me,” Arthur tells him.

 

“Thought you might like that,” Merlin replies with a grin. He shoves his ass against Arthur's hand, taking Arthur's fingers deeper and squeezing around them. Arthur is tempted to get Merlin on his knees and get behind him, to watch when his fingers come out coated in white; just the mental image has him rubbing against the sheets as well, but the truth is that he's too lazy still. The sunlight pouring in through the windows still hasn't lost its greyish morning tint and Arthur's body is still relaxed from sleep, the sex-induced heat coursing through him only making him marginally more alert, and he just can't bring himself to do much more then shove Merlin down into the bed and roll on top of him.

 

“Yes, yes, please,” Merlin breathes, fisting the sheets. Arthur barely holds himself up on one arm for long enough to guide his cock into Merlin (it's not as easy of a slide inside as Arthur expected and he considers pulling out and getting more lube, but then he's _in_ and for one short moment, he forgets everything else) and then he just collapses on top of Merlin, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Merlin grabs at Arthur's ass and tries to push him closer, cursing into the pillow. “Fuck,” he's saying, “fuck, give me a second.”

 

Arthur rests his forehead against the back of Merlin's neck, steadying his breathing and focusing on gently running his hands over Merlin's sides. He wants to ask Merlin if he's all right, but then he remembers he can't, that he has to rely on Merlin _telling_ him everything in this position, that he has to read Merlin's body instead of asking. He realizes they've never done it like this before. “Oh,” he whispers, when he thinks about what it must be like for Merlin who can't hear and right now can't see either, can only _feel_ and trust Arthur to know what to do. Arthur kisses Merlin's neck gently, suddenly emotional.

 

“Yeah, go ahead, move,” Merlin instructs, already sounding completely dazed.

 

Arthur tries a few shallow thrusts; it's tight and hot and every sensation is a knife-sharp thrill of pleasure, a complete contrast to the slow and relaxed morning around them. He kneels up a little, enough to be able to slow pull out almost all the way, then push back inside, dragging out every move. Merlin moans under him, his hands coming up to grip the pillow he's lying on. Arthur gives him a few more slow thrusts, before he falls on top of Merlin again. This time Merlin's not still under him, pushing down into the bed and then back against Arthur. It can't be very satisfying.

 

Arthur grabs Merlin's wrists with his hands and pulls them over his head so they're both stretched out on the bed on top of each other, every inch of their skin touching. Merlin mumbles something unintelligible into the pillow. Arthur squeezes his hand in a question. Merlin squeezes back before lifting his head just enough to mumble, “'m good, keep goin'.”

 

Encouraged, Arthur uses his knees to spread Merlin's legs as wide as they can go. Merlin's body is pliant and relaxed and Merlin follows Arthur's lead without hesitation or any trace of uncertainty or nerves. Arthur admires Merlin's willingness to let himself be so vulnerable. He doesn't want to waste the trust he's being shown.

 

The new position makes it a lot easier for Arthur to give Merlin what he wants. He starts to move again, fucking Merlin slow and deep and Merlin rewards him with loud moans and a few grunted curses. Arthur closes his eyes and rests his head against Merlin's. He wants to keep doing this forever, wants to stay glued to Merlin like this, locked in their own little bubble of heat while the world around them stays its cold, sleepy self. He tries to drag it out as long as he can, not really speeding up until he notices that Merlin is shaking and cursing under his breath. He kisses the top knob of Merlin's spine and listens to his panting breaths and quiet whispers.

 

“Fuck, Arthur, _god_ ,” Merlin chokes out meeting Arthur's thrusts. He cries into the pillow and squeezes around Arthur's cock as he comes. Arthur moans at the feeling. He slows down and almost stops, but Merlin squeezes his hands and says, “No, keep going, please, wanna feel...”

 

Arthur speeds up again, his eyes still closed. He loses track of time and numbers and speed, letting Merlin's almost-sobs guide him once he loses himself in the sensations. He wonders if it's always that intense for people who lose a sense, or if that's just his bodies reaction to Merlin.

 

When he comes, it almost takes him by surprise, his orgasm rushing through his body and making him gasp. Merlin squeezes around his cock, milking it. Arthur bites down on Merlin's shoulder and doesn't let it go until he's come down from the high. He slowly becomes aware of everything around him again, of Merlin breathing steadily and stroking Arthur's hands with his thumbs. Arthur soothes the bite mark he left on Merlin's shoulder with his lips before rolling off.

 

“That was new,” Merlin says, propping himself up on his elbows.

 

“Good though,” Arthur replies with a confident smirk.

 

Merlin swats at his chest. “How can you be simultaneously the most arrogant and the most insecure person in the world, I will never understand.”

 

“I guess I will always be a fun mystery to you then,” Arthur replies, stretching. He feels thoroughly sated and, oddly enough, awake.

 

“Your phone is ringing,” Merlin informs him, a complete non-sequitur.

 

“How do you even know?” Arthur wonders.

 

Merlin pulls Arthur's phone from under his pillow. “It was literally vibrating under my head.”

 

Arthur checks the screen for caller ID. It's Gwen. He decides to ignore the call.

 

“It rings to music, doesn't it?” Merlin asks, pointing at the phone.

 

“For my friends, yeah. It's _Smoke on the Water_ for Elyan. That's the only song he can play on the guitar,” Arthur explains. “He used to dream he would be in a band but he never actually bothered to learn to play an instrument.”

 

“I can teach him if he still wants,” Merlin says casually, running a hand over Arthur's side absently.

 

“You play guitar?”

 

“I used to. I don't anymore,” Merlin shrugs. “I miss playing.”

 

“So play. For me,” Arthur suggests.

 

“I can't. It's... complicated. I can't really explain it.” He looks at the ceiling wistfully, like he's remembering something. “Music is the thing I miss most about hearing. It used to be such a huge part of my life.” Arthur doesn't have a good answer. But Merlin seems to be satisfied with ending the conversation there. “We should shower,” he says.

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur tastes a spoonful of rice. It's still a bit too hot but he can definitely tell it needs more seasoning. He adds some more fennel and then pours some soya sauce totally on a limb. He puts the lid back on the pot and lets the rice simmer. He turns back to Merlin, still sitting at the bar, bent over his sketchbook. Arthur hasn't had much opportunity to see Merlin draw; Merlin's sketchbook rarely makes an appearance when Arthur is around, and when it does, Arthur tends to leave Merlin to his work, rather than hover over his shoulder.

 

This time, however, he leans over the bar to look. His forehead bumps against Merlin's as he scans the upside-down sketch. It's still a rough outline, but it's definitely the kitchenette he's currently standing in, the sharp angles and long straight lines as unmistakable as the lack of dishes. There's also somebody in the kitchen. Somebody who dresses a lot like Arthur does.

 

Arthur raises his eyebrows at Merlin. “You're drawing me?” he asks.

 

Merlin's face does a weird thing where it's trying to both frown and smile at the same time. “Yeah, do you mind?”

 

“No, of course not. Just... surprised, that's all.”

 

“What are you talking about? I draw you all the time!”

 

Arthur stirs the rice pot to buy some time. He turns the oven on; he's a little late, but the fish should still be ready in time. “I didn't know that,” he eventually says.

 

Merlin taps his pencil against his cheek. Arthur is not sure if he's nervous or just twitchy that Arthur's interrupting his work. “I have a whole sketchbook full of _you_ upstairs.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

He's amused, Arthur realizes when the corner of Merlin's mouth quirks upwards. “I just never... saw any of them, so I assumed,” Arthur says apologetically.

 

“Well, I don't really draw much when you're here, we're usually busy doing something else,” Merlin explains with a shrug. “And, well, you've never expressed any interest in art, so I figured you just weren't an art person and didn't care.”

 

“I don't really,” Arthur admits. “To be honest, most of the time I don't even understand _art_.” Merlin rolls his eyes. “But I care about _your_ art,” Arthur adds quietly, struggling not to turn away from Merlin.

 

Merlin smiles fondly at him. “I'll show you some time then,” he says, going back to his drawing.

 

_~*~_

 

“So, you still have that buddy who works at university?” Arthur asks, gesturing to the bartender for another round of drinks.

 

“Yeah. Why, thinking about going back?” Leon teases.

 

Arthur snorts into his glass. “Right!”

 

“So what is it then?”

 

Arthur takes a sip of his whiskey, keeping it in his mouth and savouring the taste before swallowing. “I was wondering if he could talk to some students for me. I may have a job offer for some of them.”

 

“Didn't realize you were hiring,” Leon says. “What's the offer? 'Cause I might be interested.”

 

“Please,” Arthur drawls. “Being an environmental lawyer is not something you do, it's who you _are_. And I, unfortunately, have no openings for someone with your particular qualifications.”

 

Leon traces the rim of his glass with a finger. He sighs. “Yeah, I figured. It's just... With Mom sick, and me practically volunteering, the money is a little tight.”

 

Arthur puts a hand on Leon's shoulder and squeezes it. He wishes he had something for Leon, but the truth is that he really doesn't. He makes a mental note to ask Morgana if she knows anyone who's hiring. “If you ever need anything, you know you can ask me,” he tells Leon honestly.

 

Leon nods. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Arthur replies, turning back to the bar, knowing that Leon is probably uncomfortable admitting how much of a financial issue he's really in.

 

“So, these students. Assistants, I assume? Any particular department you want me ask around for?”

 

“I'm not sure actually,” Arthur confesses, laughing at himself. He really hasn't thought this through. “I'm thinking maybe engineering? IT? Maybe someone in the medical field as well.”

 

“What the hell are you planning to do to these kids?” Leon jokes.

 

“Not to _them_.” Arthur takes another sip of the whiskey for some courage. He doesn't really have a plan, it's just a half-formed idea in his head, something that occurred to him one late night and has been taking over his thoughts for a while now. Still, telling someone else about it feels like an obligation, a promise that he will do something to make that idea into reality. He takes a deep breath. “I want to see if there's a way to make something like... a hearing aid? But better?”

 

“Oh,” Leon just says. They're both quiet for a while, and then Leon asks, “For Merlin?” Arthur nods. “Did he ask you?”

 

“What? No.”

 

“Are you sure it's a good idea then?” Arthur frowns. He doesn't see why it wouldn't be. “I'll ask Owain,” Leon eventually says.

 

_~*~_

 

Lancelot comes back from Nepal on a Thursday afternoon. Arthur is tempted to give everyone a free afternoon, but Gwen convinces him that she'll be fine picking Lancelot up from the airport and keeping him company for a while. She sounds positively _giddy_ about it.

 

Morgana ends up being the one to organize a night out, inviting all of their close friends and even some not so close ( _His name is Mike, Arthur, he's been working in accounting for 3 years. And he's cute!_ ), but Arthur is the one who invites Merlin. Merlin has never met Lancelot, hasn't even spent that much time around Gwen so he probably hasn't heard much about Lancelot either, and Arthur is not sure if it's smart to invite Merlin at all. He does it from purely selfish reasons, really; he's been so busy this week, he and Merlin haven't been seeing each other that much and Arthur kind of misses him.

 

They're all gathering in Morgana's favourite bar, a fancy upscale place with art hanging from the walls and jazz music floating from the speakers. Arthur's always found it a bit too uptight.

 

He's one of the last people to arrive, perpetually late Elyan showing up some 10 minutes after him and Freya ending up not there at all. He spots his group easily, they're sitting at the table in the corner, chatting and laughing and drinking already. Arthur zeroes in on Merlin, though, watching the someone intently from the edge of the table. Arthur feels a pang of guilt at having left Merlin alone with his friends because he knows Merlin does better in smaller groups than this one.

 

When he gets closer, though, he realizes that Merlin is actually focused entirely on Lancelot who's sitting next to him. Lancelot is talking animatedly, waving his hands around and pulling a face and Merlin laughs. It looks like he's having fun.

 

“Hey,” Arthur tells everyone, putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder to get he attention. “Welcome back,” he tells Lancelot.

 

“Thanks,” Lancelot replies with a wide smile that reveals his perfect teeth. He stands up, shaking Arthur's hand and giving him a hug and Arthur finds that he smells divine. He's beginning to sound like Gwen.

 

“Hey you,” Merlin says, grabbing Arthur's tie and pulling him down to kiss him.

 

“Sorry I'm late,” Arthur apologizes to Merlin as he pulls up a chair to sit next to him.

 

“It's okay. Lancelot has been telling me about his adventures.”

 

“I see.” Somehow, Arthur can't even be jealous of Lancelot. He still asks,“Should I be worried?”

 

“Mmm, I don't know, maybe,” Merlin answers, cocking his head to the side. “Lancelot _is_ pretty great.”

 

“Yeah, he's alright,” Arthur agrees. Over Merlin's shoulder he can see Lancelot smiling humbly. He smiles back briefly before Merlin pulls him closer for another kiss.

 

“He was just telling me about this kid who literally confused him for an angel,” Merlin explains to Arthur before turning back to Lancelot, prompting him to continue. Arthur rests his chin on Merlin's shoulder to join in the listening. He glances at Merlin's face. Merlin looks about as smitten as the rest of them are. Arthur smiles and shakes his head a little, drops a casual kiss on Merlin's cheek. Merlin squeezes his hand, not looking away from Lancelot's face.

 

_~*~_

 

“Hey, did I see that e-mail right, you hired some new people for the research department?” Morgana asks during commercial break. They're sitting on Gwen's creaky bed, playing cards and waiting for Gwen to come out of the shower. It's Gwen's first date with Lancelot and she's asked them both to drop by for moral support.

 

“Uh, yeah, I'm starting something new.”

 

Morgana looks at him over her cards. Arthur knows that look, he's either about to lose the game or be grilled about work. Maybe both. “Care to elaborate?” Grilled, then.

 

“I interviewed these three kids, they have an idea for, um.” Morgana cocks a dark eyebrow at him. “They think they have an idea for earphones that might help people hear,” Arthur finishes. He hasn't officially decided on the funding yet, but the whole project is definitely happening, and if Arthur can convince the board tomorrow morning, it is gonna be their most important one. He already has a pitch, he's been practicing, so he's confident he can sell them on the idea. What he's less confident about, though, after having talked to most everyone working in R&D and a few of his friends too, is the success of the project.

 

Morgana puts her cards down on the bed. “Is this about Merlin?”

 

Arthur looks mournfully at his hand. He has two queens and two eights and he's pretty sure Morgana has nothing for once (seriously, the woman is either crazy lucky at cards or cheating). He sighs and follows Morgana's example.

 

“Maybe,” he allows.

 

“Does _he_ know that?”

 

“He doesn't know anything,” Arthur says. He's been thinking about this for going on two months, and there were times when he wanted to tell Merlin for one reason or another, but he decided not to. He doesn't want to give Merlin any false hope until he's sure his team can at the very least make some progress with their research.

 

“He's not gonna like it, you know.”

 

“Who's not gonna like what?” Gwen asks, entering the room wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping on the carpet.

 

“It's nothing, we're talking about work,” Arthur answers at the same time as Morgana says, “Arthur is being pig-headed again.” Arthur glares at Morgana over their abandoned game of cards.

 

“Oh, what did you do, Arthur?” Gwen asks gently as she sits down with them.

 

“Who says Idid anything!?”

 

“He has _Camelot_ working on a new type of hearing aid,” Morgana explains. “And he hasn't told Merlin.”

 

“Oh dear,” Gwen sighs.

 

“Why is everyone acting like I'm doing something awful!? If this work, everyone involved could benefit, starting with _Camelot_!” Arthur is even prepared to give his speech for tomorrow to them. He doesn't understand why no one can see that this is important to him and that he just needs some support.

 

“Oh, come on, it's not your _work_ we're concerned about,” Morgana says.

 

“It's your relationship,” Gwen adds. Arthur feels awfully a lot like they're ganging up on him.

 

“My relationship is _fine_ ,” Arthur insists angrily.

 

“He's gonna find out, you know,” Morgana says tiredly, gathering the cards from the bed. It surprises Arthur that she's not actually arguing with him. “And he's gonna know you're doing it because of him and he's gonna be angry. Now I know everyone thinks Merlin is this innocent, sweet little flower, but when he's angry, trust me, you don't want to be in his way. He knows exactly how to hurt you.”

 

“I've noticed,” Arthur says quietly, not looking at Morgana. Gwen's hair drips over his hand as she moves to get up. “But why would he be angry? I'm doing this to _help_ him.”

 

“And that's why,” Morgana replies, giving Arthur the look that says he's just said something very stupid and she's been waiting for him to do it all along. “And you're hiding it from him, which is never a good idea.” She absently twirls a card between her fingers. “He doesn't need _help_ , Arthur.”

 

“I'm just trying to do the right thing,” Arthur defends himself. He knows that Merlin hates it when people pity him or assume that he's any less capable than they are, but this isn't about that, it really isn't. All he wants is for Merlin to have again what he's lost. He wants to give Merlin back the voices of the people he cares about and the shit reality TV without subtitles and an apartment that doesn't have to be modified to suit him and the music that he misses so much.

 

“I know,” Morgana says, putting a hand on his knee, surprisingly gentle. “But when he finds out, what kind of a message do you think he'll be getting from all this?” Arthur frowns. He's just always assumed, hoped really, that Merlin would be happy. “Gwen?”

 

“I'd really rather I'd stayed out of this,” Gwen mumbles, poking her head out from the closet where she's been digging for stuff to wear. “I don't know Merlin that well, but if it were me... Well, I'd feel like you think I'm somehow incapable of living my life without you saving me.”

 

“What? That's not—“

 

“Just talk to him,” Morgana interrupts. “Just that.”

 

_~*~_

 

Arguing with Merlin is not easy. If he wants to be understood, Arthur needs to speak slowly and calmly enough for Merlin to read it and that still doesn't stop Merlin from simply looking away when he just doesn't _want_ to understand. In addition, Merlin's exceptional skills at reading body language mean there's little that Arthur can hide. Arthur sighs.

 

And Merlin _is_ angry. He's probably the angriest he's ever been with Arthur. Arthur genuinely does not get it. But he also doesn't like being yelled at or being told what to do, both of which Merlin is doing right now.

 

“This is not happening. You are _not_ doing this,” Merlin yells.

 

“Don't tell me how to run my business,” Arthur says as calmly as he can manage, squeezing his fists together so tight his nails bite into his palms.

 

“Don't bullshit me,” Merlin throws back.

 

Arthur rubs his forehead and runs his hand through his hair. “Fine,” he finally concedes. “Fine. I did it because I thought you would like to... You know, hear again,” he finishes lamely.

 

Merlin's nostrils flare. His lips thin and he gives Arthur a cold look. Arthur crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture before he's even consciously decided to do it. “I don't need you to _fix_ me,” he hisses.

 

“I am not trying to fix you!”

 

“Yes, yes you damn well are!” Merlin shouts. “You might not see it, but you are! I don't fit into your idea of someone happy, someone _complete_.”

 

“That's not true,” Arthur whispers with his hand over his face, fully aware that Merlin won't see it. He's not sure he's convincing Merlin anymore anyway because when he gives it a moment's thought he realizes that Merlin might be at least partially right – Arthur has always assumed Merlin wanted his hearing back, has never thought to question that.

 

“You know what, the problem is not _me_ , the problem is people like you, who just don't get it!” Arthur reels back, feeling like Merlin slapped him in the face. “I don't need a knight in shining armour to _cure_ me, Arthur. I need a partner who will support me and accept me for who I am.”

 

“I do, Merlin, I promise you,” Arthur says, reaching out towards Merlin. Merlin flinches away.

 

“Don't touch me. And don't talk to me, I can't look at your face right now,” he replies quietly. He doesn't sound any less angry, if anything he sounds disappointed on top of being angry.

 

“Merlin, I...”

 

“You can sleep on the couch tonight,” Merlin says, not looking at Arthur. He walks away before Arthur can stop him.

 

Arthur's head is pounding and there are things he should think about. Instead, he gets colossally drunk and passes out on the couch while watching _Toddlers and Tiaras_ and doing his damn best not to think about what Merlin is doing upstairs.

 

When he wakes up his mouth tastes like something died in it and his head feels like ever photon of light is drilling a hole in it. He thanks God it's Sunday because he couldn't go to work now if his life depended on it. He groans quietly into the forearm he covers his face with. He can hear Merlin pottering around in the kitchen and that's what forces him to drag himself up into a sitting position. There's a glass of water and two white pills on the coffee table. He knocks back the pills and gulps down the water.

 

The smell of coffee carries Arthur to the kitchen where he sits at the bar. Merlin's back is turned to him and Arthur is not sure how to catch his attention without touching him, something he's still not sure Merlin will allow right now. So he waits until Merlin turns around.

 

“Morning,” Merlin says, putting a steaming mug in front of Arthur. “I was just about to wake you up.”

 

Arthur nods in thanks. He's not sure where to start, what to say first. Merlin is leaning on the other side of the bar, right opposite Arthur, but he's careful not to let their arms touch; it makes Arthur nervous. Taking a few sips of coffee, he studies Merlin's face – Merlin looks tired, like he didn't sleep well either, and his eyes are puffy like he's been crying. Arthur reaches out and touches Merlin's cheekbone with his thumb.

 

“Listen,” he says just as Merlin looks up and says, “Look...”

 

Merlin chuckles. “Well, that sums it up pretty well, I guess.”

 

“I'm not trying to fix you,” Arthur says seriously. It feels like the most important thing for Merlin to hear.

 

“It sometimes feels like you are,” Merlin replies. It's not an accusation today.

 

“I just, um, I guess I don't understand,” Arthur admits. “Sometimes I feel like... I don't understand _you_. It's like everyone knows you better than me.” He has to look away then, uncomfortable to show so much of his vulnerability.

 

Merlin tips Arthur's head up again with a finger. “I'll tell you something I haven't told anyone else,” he says, looking straight into Arthur's eyes. “Sometimes I don't understand either.” Arthur frowns. “I miss sound. Sometimes I miss it a lot. But it's been 10 years and being deaf is part of who I _am_ now. And sometimes feeling both of those things is confusing even for me.”

 

Arthur considers that. He's never thought of it that way. He's always seen deafness as just a part of Merlin, not a part of Merlin's identity. He didn't realize this was so important to Merlin. He figures if someone tried to change a fundamental part of who he was, he'd be pretty mad too.

 

He puts hand on the side of Merlin's face and Merlin leans into it. “I want _you_ ,” he says. “Deaf or not, I'm... I'm with you.”

 

Merlin hums quietly and nuzzles into Arthur's palm. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I'd kiss you, but you really should brush your teeth first,” he adds, making a face.

 

Arthur scrunches up his nose. “You're probably right,” he says, a little abashed. He clambers off the bar stool he's sitting on and heads upstairs.

 

“Hey, Arthur?” Merlin calls after him. Arthur turns around. “It's your company. I shouldn't tell you what to do with it. So if you think this little research pet project of yours is a good idea, I think you should probably go for it.”

 

Arthur smiles. It's as close to an apology as either of them will get.

 

_~*~_

 

“Well, the good news is,” Mithian says, checking the paper in her hands, “that we already have the technology.” Arthur motions for her to explain. “ _Camelot_ has been developing two new pieces of technology separately that we believe could work to enhance hearing if combined.”

 

“And the bad news is?” Arthur prompts.

 

“They're both still prototypes.”

 

Arthur nods. He looks Mithian over. She's young for a PhD student, only 21, but in a chocolate brown pencil skirt and beige blouse covered with a white lab coat and with wire-rimmed glasses, she looks professional, she looks older. There's a certain air of confidence about her that makes Arthur trust her. He can see why Leon's friend recommended her.

 

“So how do you plan to make this work?” Arthur asks, then before she has the time to answer, adds, “In simple terms, please.” Mithian flashes him a bright smile that makes her look her age, if only for a moment. Arthur loves her enthusiasm.

 

“You are already working on a personal listening device that expands to lock into the ear canal, it's called _SoundFit_ , I believe.” Mithian glances at the paper in her hands to check.. “It raises the volume of sound significantly simply by shortening the distance the sound travels to the ear drum,” she explains. “We would like to combine it with the new addition to vibro headphones, to give it a wider surface area of contact. We hope it will make for an excellent bone conduction technology.”

 

Arthur nods, pretending he has any clue about what she's saying.

 

“Essentially, we want to bypass the ear altogether, and go directly to the auditory system of the brain,” she summarizes quickly.

 

“Will it work?” is the only question Arthur has left. It's really been the only question for him all along.

 

“I guess we'll find out soon enough.”

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur pulls on Merlin's hair harshly, futilely trying to force Merlin's head back. Merlin _tsk_ s at him, placing another wet kiss on Arthur's hole, then standing up. Arthur whines unhappily.

 

“Hands on the desk, Arthur,” Merlin growls.

 

“Please, I'm so close,” Arthur begs, his hands already on the desk, crumpling the reports Freya brought in earlier. Merlin just hums noncommittally as he lifts Arthur's feet from his chair up on the table, making Arthur lean back further and spread his legs more, effectively putting him on display on his own desk. He tugs on Arthur's tie, to pull him close enough for a kiss. The end of the tie ghosts over the head of Arthur's cock, the lightest of touches that makes Arthur moan into Merlin's mouth nonetheless.

 

“I don't think you should come yet,” Merlin muses out loud. “It's still work hours, isn't it? We should set an example for others, put in the appropriate work hours, don't you think?” He sounds so calm and unaffected, despite the bulge in his jeans that Arthur can clearly see. “Someone could walk in, maybe to hand in a last-minute document or say goodbye,” Merlin says. “Is that what you're thinking about? The door is not locked. Anyone could walk in,” he reminds, whispering in Arthur's ear. “What would your employees say? If they saw you like this, wearing only your tie,” he yanks on Arthur's tie harshly, “legs spread for _me_ , open and ready to take me?” He cups Arthur's balls, his fingers stroking behind them. Arthur throws his head back and chokes out a sob. “Shhh,” Merlin coos, “do you want them to hear you?”

 

“Oh, god, no,” Arthur groans, his arms giving out. Merlin pulls on his tie, and helps him stay up. He tugs on the tie, closing it around Arthur's throat and Arthur coughs. Merlin lets him struggle to breathe until the lack of air is becoming seriously uncomfortable, and only then loosen the knot around Arthur's neck.

 

“What would you say if someone found us, hmm?” Merlin wonders, letting go of the tie and caressing Arthur's stomach instead, his hand venturing close to Arthur's cock, but not touching. “Would you try to explain yourself?”

 

“Hnngh,” is the only response Arthur can manage when Merlin's fingers carefully encircle his erection and run down it teasingly. The touch has Arthur jumping and one of his feet slipping off the edge of the desk. He obediently lifts it back up when Merlin taps on his knee.

 

“You know what I think? I think you're too far gone, I think you wouldn't even notice if someone walked in. I think an army could parade into your office and you'd still only have eyes for _me_.”

 

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur moans, falling back on his forearms. There's a pen digging into his back that he completely ignores. He thinks Merlin may be right. He doesn't know if the prospect of being found in such a compromising position is thrilling or mortifying, but that's half the fun.

 

Merlin leans over him, the height difference allowing him to be able to whisper directly into Arthur's ear without touching him anywhere else. Arthur's hips hitch up in frustration, his cock brushing over Merlin's shirt and smearing pre-come on it.

 

Merlin's eyes flash. “I should punish you for that,” he warns, his hand going past Arthur's cock and balls, his finger pressing against Arthur's opening, the threat clear.

 

“Unnngh,” Arthur groans, shaking his head. He's open _enough_ but he doesn't think he'd enjoy taking Merlin's fingers with no lube at all.

 

Merlin cocks his head to the side. “I'm feeling generous,” he says, though Arthur knows he wouldn't have done anything without Arthur's permission. He fishes a packet of lube out of his jeans, opens it with his teeth and squeezes the clear gel out on his hand. He lowers his hand between Arthur's legs before Arthur can see what he's doing. Arthur stares at his face, trying to divine Merlin's intention, but Merlin just smiles cryptically at him. Arthur can hear the wet sound of Merlin's hand, his fingers sliding together, and the anticipation of what's to come is killing him. He huffs a breath through his nose and rolls his hips, trying to get Merlin's attention. “Impatient?” Merlin asks. He keeps looking at Arthur until Arthur realizes he's expected to answer this time. He needs a moment to remember how to speak in words.

 

“Yes,” he answers hoarsely.

 

“Good,” Merlin says with an approving smile. Arthur relaxes fractionally, distracted from the thoughts of what Merlin will do next for just long enough that Merlin slides one whole finger inside him. Arthur bites down on his lip so as not to cry out. He's so wound up he think he could come apart under Merlin's hands with only a few more touches. Merlin knows this, which is exactly why he's not touching Arthur the way he wants. Arthur is both grateful and sorry Merlin knows him so well.

 

“Merlin, please,” Arthur whimpers.

 

“Please what?” Merlins asks, touching his forehead to Arthur's.

 

It's clearly a rhetorical question because Merlin won't be able to see the answer like this, but Arthur so past logic he answers anyway. “Move, touch me, fuck me, do _something_ , please, I _need_ to come.”

 

Merlin's finger moves slowly inside him. “Is this what you want?” he breathes into the space between them. “Or maybe,” he crooks his finger up, pressing against Arthur's prostate, “this?”

 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” Arthur chants, his cock twitching and he's _so_ ready to come, but Merlin pulls his finger out. Arthur could cry from sheer frustration.

 

“Or this?” Merlin asks, punctuating the question with two fingers pressed against Arthur's hole.

 

Arthur grabs at Merlin's hair and tilts his head so they can see each other's face. “Yes, god, yes,” he says.

 

“Hands, Arthur,” Merlin chides gently. Arthur puts his hand back down, grabbing at whatever he can find on his desk when Merlin shoves both fingers inside him roughly. He cries out. Merlin doesn't wait for him to adjust, pumping his fingers in and out of Arthur at a brutal pace.

 

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur moans, fighting his body's reaction to move away.

 

“Is _this_ what you want?” Merlin asks, sounding a little winded himself now. He scissors his fingers and rolls them around, pulls them out enough to stretch Arthur wide open and Arthur lets out a completely undignified sound. “Oh, you're loving this, aren't you,” Merlin coos. “Could you come like this? Could you come on just my fingers?”

 

And yeah, Arthur could, he could come from nothing but Merlin's words at this point, the filth spilling from his mouth in that deep, roughened voice making Arthur hot all over. One of his legs falls off the desk, and Merlin lifts it up to rest on his shoulder. When he leans over he pushes Arthur's legs open wider to the point of discomfort, and Arthur delights in the stretch.

 

“Do you want more?” Merlin asks. “Hmm, I bet you do. I bet you can't get enough.”

 

The third finger goes in easily. Arthur doesn't think he could offer up any resistance if he wanted to, and he _doesn't._ He wants to lie down and let Merlin do whatever he wants to him, wants to wipe his mind blank if only for a few minutes, and just get lost in what Merlin is doing to him. He falls back onto his desk, knocking a box of paperclips off with his head. This time Merlin lets him. Not stopping the slow push of his fingers in and out of Arthur's ass, he bends over and bites at one of Arthur's nipples. Arthur wants to shout, but he doesn't have the strength for more than a grunt. He stares at the white ceiling above him, letting all the thoughts leech out of his brain.

 

“Oh god, look at you,” Merlin breathes into his skin. “You're so gorgeous like this, I wish you could see.” The fascination in his voice grows exponentially as his voice gets further away. “Fuck, Arthur, if you could only see how stretched you are around my fingers,” he says somewhere at the level of Arthur cock, his warm breath ghosting over the leaking tip. “I'm gonna add another,” he says, his little finger already pushing at the rim. Arthur only manages the quietest of sounds when he feels Merlin's fingers moving inside him and fuck, but that's almost Merlin's entire hand and he's never been so full before and there's nothing else he think of right now, and that was precisely the point.

 

His hips start moving, pushing against Merlin's hand, then away, on their own accord and Arthur can feel it coming, the temperature rising and his legs quivering and his breathing quickening. He reach out and grabs Merlin's hand in warning.

 

“Yeah, go ahead, come,” Merlin says, letting his head rest on Arthur's hip, his hand still moving in and out of Arthur. He traces his thumb over the rim and moans. “Fuck, I think I could put my whole hand in there, god, it's so beautiful, Arthur, just imagine yourself taking my whole hand in there, _fuck_.”

 

Arthur chokes on a sob as he comes, his hips flying off the table and Merlin's fingers slipping out, leaving him suddenly empty and clenching on nothing. His cock spurts come over his chest and tie, untouched.

 

“Fucking hell,” he hears Merlin whisper, before his mind goes completely blank. For a while, he keeps his eyes closed, tries to even out his breathing. He can feel his ass still twitching and Merlin's breath is suddenly warm and damp on his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Merlin keeps repeating. A drop of sweat falls on Arthur's cheek and Arthur opens his eyes slowly just in time to see Merlin's face screwing up as he comes, spilling over Arthur's cock, which twitches weakly in response. Merlin's head falls to Arthur's shoulder as he catches his breath. “God, Arthur, what are you doing to me?” he laughs. Arthur can see his arms are still shaking when he lifts himself off Arthur and stands up. He tucks himself in and zips up his jeans, then helps Arthur up. He rubs Arthur's legs until all feeling returns to them. “Feeling better?” he asks, taking a tissue out of Arthur's drawer and wiping the mess off Arthur's skin.

 

“Yes,” Arthur replies simply, his shoulders relaxed and his back pleasantly achy. “Thank you. I needed that,” he adds, touching Merlin's face gently.

 

Merlin kisses the corner of his mouth as his hands work on undoing Arthur's tie. “For that? Any time,” he says with a grin.

 

“Where did you even learn to talk like that?” Arthur laughs, combing Merlin's hair away from his face with gentle fingers.

 

“It's easier when you can't hear yourself,” he says with a shrug of a shoulder. He kisses Arthur again, licking past Arthur's slack lips and claiming his mouth. Arthur closes his eyes and lets Merlin dominate the kiss with no fight. He can feel Merlin's smile for a second before Merlin pulls away. “Come on, let's get you dressed and go home. You need to rest.”

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur watches Elyan sift through files on his laptop. “I have _Tangled_ , _Brave_ , _Mulan_ and _Princess and the Frog_ ,” he announces.

 

“Must we watch cartoons?” Arthur moans for the third time in the last half-hour.

 

Elyan shrugs. “It's Gwen's turn to pick the movie and she wanted _Disney_.”

 

“Why do _you_ even have _Disney_ already downloaded to your laptop?” Arthur asks.

 

Elyan is saved from answering by Gwen who jumps on the sofa next to Arthur shrieking _Tangled_. She hugs Arthur from behind for no real reason.

 

“Things that good between you and Lancelot?” Arthur asks, then rethinks that question. “Actually, on second thought, don't answer that.”

 

“Ewww, thanks for that mental image,” Elyan grunts as he climbs onto the sofa on Gwen's other side.

 

“Come on, Arthur, why are you so testy?” Gwen asks, rubbing Arthur's shoulder. Arthur leans into her.

 

“Sorry, work's just been stressful lately.”

 

“Uh-uh, the first rule of movie night,” Elyan starts.

 

“Is not to talk about work,” Gwen and Arthur finish in unison.

 

“I know,” Arthur says. “Mithian's team is just not making the progress they were hoping for and...” He sighs. “I just want it to work, you know?”

 

Gwen hugs him tighter. “I'm sure it will.”

 

“I think you're missing the point of movie night, Arthur,” Elyan pipes in. Arthur swats at his head.

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur's never been one for double dates. To him, a date is an opportunity for a couple to spend some time together, bonding and falling in love with each other again every time. It's kinda hard to do that when there's another couple there. It's even harder if one half of the other couple is also Merlin's ex turned best friend.

 

“That's like straight out of a romance novel,” Merlin says, laughing.

 

“More like a first aid textbook,” Elena jokes. “But wait, the best part is that Gwaine is not even the first guy I met like that. I really should stop drinking martinis,” she says absently as she sips on her martini. Merlin raises his eyebrows. Gwaine shakes his head and Merlin shrugs, not saying anything more.

 

And there it is again, the nagging feeling at the back of Arthur's head that Gwaine still has a stronger connection with Merlin than he does. It's kind of ridiculous. He's been dating Merlin for over a year now and, barring a few minor setbacks, their relationship is going great. There is no reason for Arthur to feel this insecure, and yet he does. He thought he got over this self-deprecating, self-loathing bullshit after his father died, but he was clearly wrong. He just wishes it wasn't Merlin who brought out that side of him.

 

There's a warm hand on his thigh, bringing him out of his thoughts. He focuses on the conversation around him and finds Merlin looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, what?” he asks.

 

“I said, do you want anything? I'm gonna go get another beer,” Merlin says.

 

Arthur considers his half-full glass of wine. “No, I'm good, thanks.”

 

“Okay,” Merlin says with a smile. He leans in to brush his lips over Arthur's before leaving. Suddenly at a loss of what to focus on, Arthur buries his face in his glass.

 

“You've been taking good care of him,” Gwaine says. Arthur chokes on the sip of wine in his mouth.

 

Elena giggles. “At least it's not a martini,” she tells him.

 

“Oh, no, don't worry, I'd be more than happy to give you a Heimlich as well,” Gwaine assures him breezily. “I hear I'm good at them,” he adds, grinning at Elena and pulling her closer with the arm casually draped around her shoulders. They look happy. Arthur selfishly wishes they'd look happy somewhere else.

 

“I got us pity peanuts,” Merlin announces, distracting everyone.

 

“Still no issues using your deafness to get free stuff, I see,” Gwaine says proudly.

 

Merlin shrugs. “He offered. Who says no to free peanuts?” He slides into the booth next to Arthur, close enough that their legs are pressed together. His hand finds its usual place on Arthur's thigh. It's grounding and comforting at the same time and Arthur focuses on it as he tunes out most of the conversation. It's rude, he knows, but he's running on too little sleep and too much coffee, he's cranky and in a bad mood, and Gwaine is sitting opposite Merlin, talking to him and making him laugh and Arthur thinks he's entitled to being a little quiet. He makes some small talk with Elena, who's actually rather nice, but doesn't try to get involved in any serious conversations. Gwaine's been away for quite some time, enough for Arthur to forget just how much he hates seeing Merlin and Gwaine together.

 

“Can one of you please point me in the direction of the ladies' room?” Elena asks the table at large. Arthur notices Gwaine and Merlin exchanging a look over their glasses, then Merlin finishes his beer in one long gulp.

 

“I'll take you,” he says, already standing up.

 

“Oh, excellent, thank you!” Elena loops her arm through Merlin's and they quickly get lost in the crowd. Arthur looks sideways at Gwaine. Gwaine spreads his arms, giving Arthur an innocent face.

 

“I didn't say anything,” he says, answering no particular question.

 

“I saw that look,” Arthur replies accusingly.

 

Gwaine laughs. “Okay, busted. Maybe I wanted to talk to you alone.”

 

“Well?” Arthur prompts. He squints through the crowd, but Merlin and Elena are nowhere to be seen.

 

“How many times are we gonna go over this, Arthur?” Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Merlin and I are done. We dated, we broke up. I love him as a friend. That's all there is to it.”

 

“It's not that simple,” Arthur grumbles just as Merlin emerges from the crowd.

 

“She said she could find her way back,” he informs them with a face that says he doesn't really believe that. He makes Arthur scoot over and sits on Arthur's other side now, just as close as before. He leans against Arthur's side.

 

“It really is,” Gwaine says quietly.

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur slams the phone down on his desk. “Damn it!” he curses. Merlin's hands on his sides guide him around.

 

“What's wrong?” he asks.

 

“Nothing,” Arthur says, wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist and pulling him close. “It doesn't matter.”

 

“It clearly does,” Merlin disagrees. He plays with the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck, pulls on it gently. “Hey, talk to me.”

 

Arthur sighs. “It's about _ViberSound_ ,” he warns.

 

Merlin shrugs one shoulder. “So? I'm still unsure about the project itself and I still think that's an awful, awful name,” he teases, “but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about it.”

 

“I thought you didn't care.”

 

“I don't,” Merlin says through a laugh. “But I care that _you_ care.”

 

“Well, for what it's worth to you, it's not really going well.”

 

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I don't want it to _fail_.” Arthur gives him a questioning look. “I don't want you to feel like you failed,” Merlin explains.

 

“Sometimes I think you know me too well.”

 

Merlin grins as he leans forward and brings their mouths together. “No such thing,” he replies. “Come on, there's more comfortable places for moping in this palace than your study.”

 

_~*~_

 

“For the love of fuck, Arthur, get the fucking door!” Morgana yells banging at the wall they share.

 

“Not for me,” Arthur mumbles into his pillow. The doorbell rings again. He covers his head with a pillow. The doorbell rings again. Arthur peeks at his alarm clock; it's 3.26 in the morning. The doorbell rings again. “I swear to fucking god,” Arthur grunts, pushing the pillow out of the way and jumping out of bed. He storms down the stairs, not bothering to put on a t-shirt because whoever thinks that waking him up at ass o'clock on a Sunday isn't worth the effort of putting clothes on. He unlocks the front door with brisk flicks of his wrist and pulls the door open. “What!?” he asks before he sees who's on the other side. “Oh.”

 

He's met with the sight of Merlin hanging off of Gwaine's arm, which seems to be the only thing that supports him standing up. He's giggling into Gwaine's shoulder and waving a hand around like he's trying to explain something. Arthur looks at Gwaine for explanation.

 

“Don't look at me, I'm way drunker than I seem,” Gwaine says, pushing Arthur's door further open and squeezing past him. He drags Merlin inside with him.

 

“Yeah, please, come in,” Arthur tells the door he's closing. He follows Gwaine into the living room and helps him deposit Merlin on the couch.

 

“Hiiiiii,” Merlin sings when he notices Arthur. He pokes at Arthur's cheek, giggling again. “You look like you just rolled out of bed!”

 

“That's because I did,” Arthur patiently replies.

 

“Did we wake you up?” Merlin asks, stroking Arthur's face uncoordinatedly, his thumb bumping over Arthur's nose. “I told Gwaine I'd be fine just going back to my place.”

 

Arthur looks over his shoulder at Gwaine, who's now sitting on the armchair, his head thrown back. “He's gonna feel like crap in the morning,” he slurs. “Figured it was better I brought him here.”

 

Arthur looks at Merlin's face, illuminated only by the dim moonlight. His eyes are glassy and his nose is red and his breath smells of alcohol and something sweet. He looks about two minutes away from passing out. “Yeah, that's fine,” Arthur tells Gwaine.

 

Merlin grabs at Arthur's neck and tries to pull him down. “Come here,” he whines.

 

“I am here,” Arthur replies, gently prying Merlin's hand away and putting it down on Merlin's stomach.

 

“No, you're far away. I like it when you're close.”

 

Arthur bends over and kisses Merlin's forehead. “I'm here,” he assures gently. Merlin pouts, but doesn't seem to have the strength to do much else, as he gives in to Arthur's manhandling and lets Arthur cover him with a blanket.

 

“He's, um, he's a cuddler,” Gwaine says.

 

“I can see that,” Arthur snorts. “I don't think I've ever seen him this drunk,” he comments more to himself.

 

“He's such a lightweight,” Gwaine replies anyway.

 

“Yeah, tell me about it. Two beers and he's already stumbling. What were you even drinking?” he asks belatedly realizing he doesn't recognize the smell he catches on Merlin's breath.

 

“Dude, I don't even know,” Gwaine says, sitting up and looking at Arthur with wide eyes. “I think they're called Purple Nurples or something and I have no idea what's in them, but let me tell you something,” he raises a finger at Arthur seriously, “I can drink half this country under the table and I was dizzy after three of those.”

 

“How many did Merlin have?”

 

“Like, at least five. I'm telling you, man, he's gonna need all the help he can get come morning.”

 

As if on cue, Merlin starts snoring softly. Arthur laughs. “Yeah. Well, thanks for bringing him.”

 

“Of course,” Gwaine says immediately. “Sorry we woke you up. I just realized you probably have work to get to in the morning. Well, later in the morning.”

 

Arthur laughs. “I think that's out of the question at this point.”

 

“Really, you gonna skip work? 'Cause from what Merlin tells me, you're a bit of a workoholic.”

 

“He told you that?” Arthur makes a face. “He tells _me_ that almost every day. I've been trying to be better about it,” he admits, not even sure why he's talking to Gwaine of all people about this. It's small comfort that Gwaine will likely not remember the conversation when he wakes up.

 

“I know,” Gwaine says. Arthur looks at him in surprise. Gwaine rolls his eyes and gives him an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh. “Come on, all he ever talks about is you. About how good at your work you are, about how kind and compassionate you can be, hell, I think he even called you _noble_ at some point tonight. He may have already been drunk then, mind.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Arthur says, pretending the words don't make him feel warm all over.

 

“Besides, you two have that whole making each other better versions of yourselves thing going, where he makes you relax more and you teach him some sense of responsibility and whatnot,” Gwaine adds off-handedly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

 

There's a short lull in the conversation when Arthur is too stunned to reply, and then it gets longer when he realizes he doesn't know what _else_ to say. His only topic of conversation with Gwaine, at least when it's just the two of them, has always been Merlin. Then something occurs to him. “He's missed you,” he says.

 

Gwaine gives him a lopsided smirk. “Of course, what's there not to miss? Good tan, perfect teeth, great body... fun accent,” he jokes.

 

“I think it was mostly the hair, to be honest with you,” Arthur deadpans.

 

Gwaine laughs. “You know, you're a lot more fun at four in the morning. Maybe I should make a habit of this.”

 

“Please don't.”

 

“What are you gonna do, kick me out?” He waves his finger at Arthur. “I warn you, I have an orange belt in karate. Or I had it some,” he pauses briefly, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling as he counts, “twenty-fucking-three years ago, Jesus, I feel old!”

 

“You _are_ old,” Arthur replies, though in all honesty, he doesn't actually know.

 

“Yeah, well, I keep in shape. You still couldn't kick me out,” Gwaine says, leaning back into the armchair.

 

“You work on a boat! _And_ I played soccer professionally for three years, so I'm not exactly out of shape either.” He doesn't mention that Merlin has actually been the reason why Arthur's been getting a lot of exercise lately.

 

“It's a luxury cruiser, Arthur,” Gwaine says with a dismissive wave of his hand and in that moment, Arthur swears, Gwaine's more Morgana's brother than he is. “We have a pool on deck.”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be working there, not sailing.”

 

“No reason I can't do both.”

 

“So are you gonna go back to that?” Arthur asks before he can think about why he's asking. Part of him probably still wants Gwaine away from Merlin, but most of him is just having a conversation. With Gwaine. He's bonding with his boyfriend's drunk ex at 4 in the morning. He pinches himself just to make sure this is what his life has become thanks to Merlin.

 

“Eh, I don't know,” Gwaine replies. “It's a good job, don't get me wrong, and it's great fun, but I don't know. Elena is obviously staying here and I, well... Let's just say I'm thinking about staying here as well,” he finishes, like he can't make himself say what he really means. Arthur can relate to that.

 

“It's serious between you two then?” he asks, leaning back against Merlin's legs.

 

Gwaine rubs his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I wouldn't say _serious_ per se,” he says, dragging the sentence out like he's still thinking about the next one. “Exclusive, though, definitely. But I don't know about serious yet. I just... don't wanna rush things, you know.”

 

Arthur can relate to that as well. “How does she feel about this?”

 

“I don't really know, we haven't talked about it.”

 

“Might you wanna ask her?” Arthur suggests, because that's what Morgana would say to him (it's only tonight, he tells himself, he's _not_ becoming Gwaine's Morgana).

 

“Are you seriously giving me relationship advice?” Gwaine asks incredulously, shaking his head.

 

“I'm giving you communication advice,” Arthur corrects.

 

Gwaine scrubs a hand over his face. “Does it work?” he mumbles into his palm.

 

“I don't know, we can ask Merlin tomorrow if you like, it's him I tried it on.”

 

And that's how Gwaine stays the night at Arthur's house too.

 

_~*~_

 

Morgana struts into his room wearing a shimmering burgundy cocktail dress. The fact that Arthur knows it's a cocktail dress means she's been parading outfits to him for too long, he decides. “What about this one?” she asks.

 

“Morgana, please, I've told you already,” he sighs. “You look great in all of them. Besides, he's seen you drunk and puking on the side of a road _twice_ and he still wants to go out with you, I hardly think it matters what you wear.”

 

Morgana puts a hand on her hip and gives him a stern look. “Of course it matters, don't be silly.”

 

Arthur puts a pillow over his head and growls his frustration into it. When Morgana yanks the pillow out of his hands, he gives her his most saccharine smile. “The green one. Wear the green one.”

 

“There, that wasn't too hard now, was it?”

 

“Tell me again, why are you going out with _Leon_? You've known him _forever_ , he's practically like a brother to us.” He's not sure why it bothers him really, he just knows it doesn't feel right.

 

“He's smart, he's kind, he's always been there when we needed someone and he asked me,” Morgana counts on her fingers. “Why do you even care?”

 

“I don't know!” Arthur admits. “Other than the fact that it feels slightly incestuous, I just... I don't know, I think you're forcing it. You're dating because that's what people do,” he says. He expects Morgana to be so mad she screams at him, but instead she just stands frozen in her spot, not moving and not saying anything. Her expression doesn't even change. “I've never seen you do that,” Arthur adds quietly. “Is something wrong?”

 

Morgana's shoulders slump forward. She sits next to Arthur. “I'm alone, Arthur,” she says, her voice small like they're kids again and she's telling him someone's been mean to her and asking him to teach her to fight like a boy.

 

“What are you talking about, you have me and your friends – you're not alone,” Arthur tries, even though he knows that's not what she means.

 

“It's just that you have Merlin and Merlin has you. And Lancelot may not be _here_ with Gwen, but he's out there somewhere thinking about her and that's more than I have,” she says, looking at her hands in her lap.

 

Arthur puts an arm around her. “And you think Leon is the answer to that?”

 

Morgana shrugs. “I don't know. Maybe. He's an attempt at an answer.” Arthur kisses her temple and hugs her tighter. “You know how I've always told you I didn't mind being alone? Well, maybe I do mind. Maybe I want to have someone special in my life, maybe I want a family or a cat or... something.”

 

“There's nothing wrong with that,” Arthur assures her.

 

“Oh, I know,” Morgana says quickly. “I just never thought of myself as _that_ person. But now,” she waves a hand around, then lets it fall back on her lap with a loud noise, “you practically live at Merlin's, you spend more time there than here and this damn house is so big and empty and it just feels like it needs more people in it.”

 

Arthur knows that feeling well. He'd always felt the pressure of being alone when Morgana travelled and it always made him think about how he dreamed of having a family some day. Nowadays, when Morgana is out of town, Arthur just stays at Merlin's. Morgana doesn't have that, he realizes.

 

“Have you ever thought about selling the place?” he suddenly asks, the thought only occurring to him then.

 

Morgana sighs and leans her head against his shoulder. “Honestly? Yeah, a couple of times.”

 

“A lot of memories here.”

 

“I'm not sure if that's supposed to convince me to sell it or keep it,” she laughs.

 

“Yeah, I don't either,” he admits. “I wouldn't mind getting rid of some of those memories.”

 

“I wouldn't mind keeping some either.”

 

Arthur looks around them. He's never seriously thought about giving up the house before. He's always thought of it as part of his father's legacy and therefore something he's attached to, but he's come so far from where his father wanted him to go, and he's actually content with who he's become. He no longer thinks of himself as having failed or betrayed his father; rather, he thinks of himself as someone simply different from his father. The disconnect that's been developing between him and who he remembers his father being takes away some of the value from everything his father left him. Including the house.

 

He pokes Morgana in the ribs. “You'll be late,” he says. “Don't wanna keep potentially the man of your dreams waiting.”

 

Morgana laughs. She stands up, then spins around in front of Arthur. “Still think the green one is better?” she asks.

 

“Definitely the green one,” Arthur confirms.

 

She leans over and kisses his forehead. “Thanks.”

 

_~*~_

 

It takes Arthur a few moments to recognize the signs of Merlin jerking off next to him. The bed is shaking and Merlin is breathing fast, little _oh_ s and _ah_ s that barely reach Arthur's ears, and then there's the sound of skin sliding over wet skin. Arthur cracks an eye open and looks to his side. Merlin's back is arched off the bed and his eyes are closed. Arthur follows the lines of his body down where his legs are spread and one of his hands is pressing down on his stomach while the other is stripping his cock furiously. Arthur takes in a sharp breath that accompanies Merlin's moan when Merlin's thumb presses under the head harshly. Arthur's cock starts to harden as he watches.

 

He ventures a hand towards Merlin, touches the prominent bone of Merlin's hip.

 

“Ooh,” Merlin whispers at the touch, fucking up into his fist. He turns his head to face Arthur. “Good morning,” he mouths breathlessly.

 

“Morning,” Arthur replies. He walks his fingers over Merlin's hipbone, trails through Merlin's pubic hair. Merlin's hand slows down.

 

“Join me,” Merlin breathes. Arthur rubs two fingers over the base of Merlin's cock. “No, no,” Merlin stops him. “Touch yourself. I wanna watch.”

 

Arthur's cheeks flame up. “You wanna watch me jerk off?” he asks, his voice a little higher than usual.

 

“You're watching me, aren't you?” Merlin replies. His hand keeps lazily moving over his cock, but his other hand migrates further down where he rolls his balls in the palm of his hand.

 

Arthur's hand settles low on Merlin's stomach where he can feel Merlin's muscles tightening. He lets his other hand trail slowly over his chest, pinching his nipples, then down his stomach. Merlin follows the path his hand takes with his eyes. Arthur still feels a little uncomfortable about this; Merlin has seen him touch himself before, but they were always touch each other as well and this is different. The look on Merlin's face, though, keeps him going. He takes his cock in hand and strokes it to full hardness. Merlin mimics his rhythm.

 

“Why don't you just fuck me?” Arthur asks, letting go of himself and reaching for Merlin. “I could go for a a nice fuck from behind,” he adds, already turning around. Merlin's mouth opens around a silent moan.

 

“Keep talking like that and I'll come,” he says.

 

“Then do it,” Arthur replies, already on his knees. But Merlin shakes his head no.

 

“No, I'm not fucking you if I can't see your face,” he says seriously.

 

“I trust you.”

 

“I'm not doing it, Arthur,” Merlin repeats, looking up at the ceiling and then closing his eyes. “But I'm damn sure imagining it,” he adds with a smile slowly spreading over his face. Arthur leans his forehead on his forearm and looks down his body, his legs spread, his cock hard between them and his ass in the air; he can imagine Merlin behind him. Merlin would hold his hips until they bruised and he'd fuck him hard, but he wouldn't touch him until the very end, the fucking tease, and Arthur would love every moment of it. He's stroking himself again before he's done painting the picture in his head. “Yes,” Merlin hisses next to him.

 

Arthur turns his head to the side to find Merlin looking at him again.

 

“Are you imagining it?” Merlin asks, his smirk morphing into another quiet groan.

 

“Yeah,” Arthur admits, his hand speeding up. He looks at Merlin's eyes and doesn't think about what he's doing, just watches the various expressions of pleasure form on Merlin's face and imagines how much better they would be with Merlin behind him, pounding into him.

 

“Faster,” Merlin tells him, “faster.” Arthur works himself faster, starting to push into his hand. It's too fast and too rough and it's not nearly as satisfying as Merlin's touch is, but he keeps going when he hears Merlin whine high in his throat.

 

“Louder,” he replies.

 

“Wha— oh, fuck, what?”

 

“Louder,” Arthur repeats. “You wanna watch, I wanna hear.”

 

Merlin nods emphatically. “All right, okay,” he agrees. He lets his legs fall open, revealing himself completely to Arthur and Arthur watches as Merlin tugs on his balls with punishing strength and then Merlin moans, much louder this time than all the previous and Arthur closes his eyes at the sound.

 

He hears the exact moment when Merlin's voice breaks on a long whine and he knows Merlin is coming. He opens his eyes again to see Merlin just holding himself, angling his cock so that the come paints his stomach and chest. Arthur bites at his forearm and fucks into his fist with purpose. He's aware that Merlin is watching him, that Merlin is done and he's still watching him. It makes a blush spread down his neck and back, but it also makes his cock throb in his hand and he decides that maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

 

He comes on the sheets, muffling the sounds in the pillow. It's not the orgasm of his life, but when he opens his eyes and sees Merlin covered with come and smiling like he's high, he thinks his morning started just fine.

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur dials Merlin's number again, but it keeps going to voicemail. It's not that it's unlike Merlin to be late, but it's dark outside and it's raining and Arthur just knows Merlin is not gonna do the smart thing and take the cab. He doesn't want to be the kind of person who runs negative scenarios through his head whenever something doesn't going exactly to plan, but he can't _not_ worry about Merlin, who's gonna end up walking home even though he didn't bring a jacket.

 

Arthur puts the phone down the moment he realizes he sounds like somebody's mother. He picks a random book from Merlin's shelf, sits down by the window and buries his nose into pages upon pages of the misadventures of Tender Branson.

 

He's 11 chapters in already when he hears the door opening and closing quickly. He leaves the book on the chair and goes to meet Merlin.

 

Except, it's not just Merlin. Merlin is standing just inside the apartment, soaking wet and dripping on the floor, and he's holding something in his arms. When Arthur gets closer, he sees it's a puppy.

 

“You brought a dog in?” he asks, confused.

 

“Hey, sorry, I wasn't paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that.” Merlin pets the puppy, his fingers twirling one floppy ear around. The dog is tiny, easily fitting into Merlin's arm, and its coat is short and wet from the rain. It licks Merlin's hand. “Can you hold her for me?” Merlin asks, holding the dog out towards Arthur. Still shocked at the sight of a wet dog in the apartment, Arthur doesn't reach for it. Merlin looks up. “Please tell me you're not allergic.” Arthur shakes his head no. “Good,” Merlin says with a grin and shoves the dog into Arthur's arms. Now that Arthur is holding it, he can feel it shaking and whining quietly. He holds it close, trying to warm it up.

 

Merlin takes off his Chucks and then peels off his wet clothes, putting it all in a pile that he then picks up. “Okay, I will be right back with you, sorry,” Merlin says before running up the stairs. Arthur looks at the dog that he's holding, not really sure what to do with it. It looks back at him with huge sad brown eyes.

 

“Ugh, fine, you're cute,” Arthur admits to it. He takes a towel from the pile of folded laundry that he left on the coffee table and luckily forgot to put away. He wraps it around the puppy (female, he notices) and starts drying her. She's filthy, the towel coming away smeared with brown and grey, but she lets Arthur move her around without complaints and by the time he's done, she's even licking his hands too. Arthur tries not to be charmed. He's failing.

 

Merlin comes downstairs wearing only baggy pyjama bottoms, dry now except for his hair which is still shiny and heavy from water. “That was the fastest shower I've ever taken,” he informs Arthur as he sits down. Arthur drops the towel on the floor, watches, amused, as the puppy starts wagging her tail and moving unsteadily over their legs towards Merlin. Merlin scratches under her chin absently, not looking away from Arthur. “Are you mad?” he asks finally. “My battery died and I was already on the way when I realized. I'm sure you called.”

 

“Yeah, like seventeen times,” Arthur snorts. He's not worried anymore, and he's gotten over the initial shock of having to take care of a stray dog Merlin brought it, so now he just watches the puppy play with Merlin's hands, following them as Merlin moves them around her head, trying to catch them with her paws. “You brought a dog in,” Arthur says stupidly.

 

“Okay, I know that's a little... sudden and unexpected and we have never talked about getting a dog, but,” Merlin takes a deep breath like he's bracing for something unpleasant, “she was cold and alone and lost and I couldn't leave her in the street. And then I started thinking about how nice it would be to have a dog and how the three of us could go for longs walks in the park and how we could give her a nice place to live and... And I brought her home with me,” he explains.

 

Arthur raises his eyebrows. That sounded suspiciously like Merlin was planning on the dog staying. For some time. Some time probably being the rest of the dog's life. “Merlin,”Arthur drags out the first syllable of Merlin's name as a warning, “what do you think you're doing?”

 

Merlin looks down at the puppy in his lap before Arthur finishes the sentence. He seems to know what Arthur said anyway, because he says, “I think we're adopting a puppy.”

 

Arthur turns Merlin's head towards him. “No,” he replies clearly, “ _you_ are adopting a puppy. _I_ think that's a terrible idea.”

 

Merlin frowns at him, his mouth morphing into a dissatisfied line. “Why?”

 

Arthur says and throws his hands up in the air. “Because we're both busy, Merlin, and dogs are a lot of work, they need to be fed and walked and taken care of.”

 

“I know that,” Merlin replies, “I'm not a child, I get that. You don't have to do it, don't worry, I will do everything.” He sounds disappointed, but when he looks down at the dog, a smile creeps onto his face. Arthur watches the change, fascinated. It makes him smile too, to see Merlin so instantly happy. Somehow, he'd always pegged Merlin for more of a cat person. He's glad Merlin didn't bring a cat in from the street, though, because he _is_ allergic to cats.

 

He reaches out to pet the puppy that's now happily nestled in Merlin's lap. He can practically feel Merlin's eyes on him. “It's not about that,” he confesses. It's easier when he's not looking at Merlin. “It's just... It's a huge responsibility to share.”

 

“I know,” Merlin says, putting a hand on Arthur's back. “But I want to. I want to share it with you.” Arthur smiles at Merlin, who smiles back and knocks their foreheads together. “So what do you say, wanna share my dog?” he asks, grinning.

 

“Yeah, I'll share your dog,” Arthur agrees, laughing at how silly the sentence sounds. He pets the puppy's head, and the tips of his fingers brush over Merlin's arm gently. The dog opens her eyes to blink at him like she's wondering who he is and considering whether to trust him. She seems to recognize him and decide he's okay, because she turns her head and licks Arthur's palm, before settling down again.

 

“You know, a dog needs a place to live,” Merlin says. Arthur looks up at him, confused. Merlin is biting his lip and his eyes are shiny. He seems a little nervous.

 

“And?” Arthur prompts.

 

“Well, if we're sharing _her_ , it only makes sense that...” A nervous laughter bubbles out of Merlin. “I can't believe you're gonna make me spell this out for you, fucking move in with me,” he says in a rush, not really looking at Arthur's eyes.

 

Butterflies stir in Arthur's stomach at the idea of officially moving in together. It feels like a big step, a milestone, even though they haven't spent a night apart in god knows how long and could be married for all that any outsiders would know. It's still a big step for Arthur, to leave the house he's lived in his whole life. He realizes that he's actually ready for that. It's freeing to leave the family house behind, a metaphorical final breaking off with his father.

 

“We can live in your house, I don't mind,” Merlin suggests nervously. “I know it means a lot to you.”

 

Arthur remembers he didn't actually give Merlin an answer at all. “No,” he says, then when he sees Merlin's face fall, rushes to finish his thought, “no, I'm-I'm gonna move in here.”

 

Merlin makes a funny noise in his throat and lets a long breath out through his nose. “You're moving in with me,” he repeats, grinning. He looks about as giddy as Arthur feels. He leans over and pulls Arthur in for a kiss, jostling the puppy in the process; she whines in protest. “You're moving in with me,” Merlin says again when they part. The puppy head-butts his hand. “Yes, yes,” Merlin agrees, “he's moving in with _us_.”

 

_~*~_

 

Merlin presses Arthur's legs against his chest when he bends down to kiss him. “Gonna come,” he says.

 

Arthur tries to get an arm between them to touch himself because he's close too, and god, he wants to come with Merlin, but there's just not enough space. He grabs at Merlin's ass instead, urging him to go harder.

 

Merlin bites on Arthur's lip, burying himself deep inside Arthur and spilling. Arthur tightens his muscles, delighting in the surprised moan that bring out of Merlin's mouth. When he's done, Merlin collapses on top of Arthur, breathing heavily. Arthur gives him a moment before shoving at his shoulder.

 

“Can't breathe,” he mouths.

 

Merlin drags himself up and rolls to the side. “Sorry,” he drawls.

 

Arthur lets his legs fall down, almost immediately reaching for his cock. He only gets a few quick strokes in before Merlin drags himself closer again.

 

“Fuck me,” Merlin says. “It'll feel better.”

 

Arthur looks over at him. “You sure?” he asks before he get too wound up to think properly. Merlin spreads his legs in response. “Oh god,” he moans, climbing quickly on top of Merlin and easily sinking into him. He takes a moment to be grateful that Merlin chose that particular day to want fingers.

 

Merlin is completely relaxed under him, a dopey smile on his face. He hugs Arthur and brings him closer. Arthur doesn't give him much time to adjust, starts thrusting fast and hard almost as soon as he's in, too close to have much control over himself.

 

“This is nice,” Merlin purrs in his ear. “I like this.” He even _sounds_ high. “It's like I can really _feel_ you.”

 

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur growls, biting at his neck and fucking him harder. Merlin gasps every time Arthur buries himself inside and Arthur latches on to that sound when he grabs Merlin's hips and shoves them closer, making Merlin's body meet him thrust for thrust. Arthur makes a happy sound and wraps his legs around Arthur, urging him on with his feet on Arthur's lower back. Arthur spreads his legs for better balance and feels Merlin's come drip out of his ass. “Oh my _god_ ,” he whispers, only managing a few more shallow thrusts before he empties himself inside Merlin.

 

The world goes a little fuzzy after that; Arthur is still buzzed on the high and Merlin is still warm and pliant around him, stroking his back gently and whispering in his ear. He only comes back to reality when he hears a quiet whining and scratching behind him.

 

“This has to be a joke,” he groans, but dutifully gets up on shaky legs to open the door.

 

“What are you doing?” Merlin calls after him, sounding halfway to dreamland already.

 

“Jackie wants inside,” Arthur explains, his hand on the doorknob.

 

“We should clean up first,” Merlin comments, pulling the sheets over himself.

 

“Right, that's happening,” Arthur snorts. He opens the door and Jackie bounds into the room and jumps on the bed at Merlin's feet. Arthur drags himself over to the bed and falls in it face first, breathing in the combined smell of himself and Merlin that is infused in the sheets. Merlin tucks himself into Arthur's arms, then covers them both with a sheet. Jackie moves over to lie on their feet. Arthur buries his face in Merlin's neck and happily goes to sleep.

 

_~*~_

 

Merlin leans back against Arthur's chest and rests his head on Arthur's shoulder. “You'd think we never take her out,” he comments, watching Jackie run around the park, chasing birds and children alike. “All we need is a red and white checkered tablecloth and we could be in a magazine. A poster couple for the gay movement.”

 

“You really think we're that perfect, huh,” Arthur says, mostly to himself since the way they're sitting, he can't really talk to Merlin. It's a pleasant spring day, sunny and without a cloud in the sky, a breeze chilling it down pleasantly. Comfortable as he is, Arthur thinks he might fall asleep if he doesn't find something to do soon.

 

“Look, she found a friend,” Merlin says, nudging Arthur and pointing in front of them. A little girl in a pastel purple dress is crouching in front of Jackie, and Jackie is jumping at her, wagging her tail happily. Merlin reaches into their bag and feels around it, coming up with his sketchbook and a pencil. He quickly outlines the scene in front of them. Arthur is so focused on watching Merlin's work that he doesn't notice Jackie is running back to them, little girl in tow, until they're both already there. Jackie jumps on Arthur's lap and quickly back off it; she goes to run between the girls legs. “Hi,” Merlin says amicably.

 

“Hi,” the girl replies quietly with a wave.

 

“I'm Merlin,” Merlin continues, nudging Arthur with an elbow, “and this guy here who's forgetting his manners is Arthur.”

 

“My name is Hailey.” There's something about the way she talks that sets off some alarms in Arthur's head.

 

“Nice to meet you, Hailey,” Merlin says slowly.

 

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Arthur finally joins in. “That over there is Jackie,” he says, pointing at Jackie who's stretching on her hind legs to get to Hailey. “She seems to like you.” Hailey blushes. Before Arthur can say anything else, Merlin makes what looks like a complicated series of hand gestures to Arthur. Hailey responds in kind.

 

“She's deaf,” Merlin informs Arthur redundantly.

 

“I gathered,” Arthur says.

 

“I just told her she doesn't have to be shy and that we can sign if it's easier for her.”

 

Arthur nods. Hailey seems to open up to Merlin after that, sitting down with them presumably after Merlin invites her. For a while Merlin talks to Arthur, explaining what they're saying, but Arthur stops him with a hand on his upper arm. He leans back instead to watch the exchange instead.

 

Merlin rarely uses sign language, at least to Arthur's knowledge. Most of Merlin's friends and all of Arthur's are hearing and of all of them, only Gwaine knows sign language and only some of it too. Merlin's always maintained he doesn't mind, but seeing him now Arthur wonders if maybe their lives would be easier if Arthur did know how to sign. Merlin is smiling at Hailey and easily picking up her responses; he doesn't need to ask her to repeat, doesn't need to drop everything else in order to have a conversation. He looks more relaxed, free from having to concentrate had just to know what someone is saying.

 

“Hey,” Merlin says, touching Arthur's leg and turning to face him. “Hailey's family is having a picnic here next Saturday. She's invited us to join.”

 

“Um, okay,” Arthur replies, not sure what else to say. He's long lost the thread of conversation.

 

“Yeah, you wanna come?” Merlin asks again. “Her parents can both hear, don't worry,” he adds. Arthur wishes Merlin didn't have to assure him of that, he wishes it didn't matter.

 

“Yeah, sure, let's do it,” he agrees. Merlin flashes him a bright smile.

 

“Thanks,” he says before turning back to Hailey. They're saying their goodbyes, Arthur realizes, only moment before Hailey turns to him.

 

“It was nice to meet you,” she says.

 

“You too,” Arthur replies. She waves at them before she leaves. Jackie looks like she has half a mind to follow.

 

“Sorry about that, you must have felt quite excluded,” Merlin says, turning to sit so that they're face to face. “She's very nice.”

 

“I'm sure she is.” Arthur takes Merlin's hand. “Do you think it's weird that we've been together for two years and I don't know how to sign?”

 

“I don't think it matters,” Merlin says readily. “We communicate just fine. When you can get your head out of your ass for long enough to actually try,” he teases. Arthur indulges him with a smile.

 

“I'm shit at languages,” Arthur says in lieu of an apology. “And behind all the complicated hand waving, that's still a language.”

 

Merlin squeezes his hand. “Arthur, it's okay, really. I don't mind.”

 

Arthur still feels like it's not really _okay_ , at least not from where he's standing, but he lets the matter drop. Instead he pulls Merlin closer, kisses him and says, “You're pretty good with kids.”

 

“Am I?” Merlin wonders, but Arthur can tell it's just for show. “I guess I am.”

 

“Is this the time and the place for this conversation?”

 

“Hey, I sprung moving in together on you by dropping a wet dog on your lap,” Merlin laughs. As if she knows they're talking about her, Jackie jumps between them and puts her head on their joined hands.

 

“So do you? Want kids?” Arthur asks. He's not sure what he's hoping for. He's always liked the _idea_ of kids, but never having been in a relationship serious enough to lead to this conversation, he doesn't know if he's ready for the reality of having them.

 

“I've never been in a situation where I had to really think about that,” Merlin admits.

 

“Same!” Arthur exclaims, relieved that he's not the only one jumping into this conversation blind.

 

Merlin laughs. “Good,” he says, visibly relaxing. “I thought you'd tell me you already had names picked out for our seven little monsters.”

 

“Seven!”

 

“I don't know, you're the big family type of guy,” Merlin defends himself.

 

“I'll settle for two,” Arthur says, his heart beating a little faster at the confession.

 

“Adopted?” Merlin ventures.

 

“Of course, I've always wanted to adopt.”

 

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Merlin says, running his thumb over the part of Arthur's hand not covered with Jackie's drool-coated mouth. He looks away from Arthur for a few moments, his jaw set like he's made a decision. When he looks back, there's an unfamiliar glint in his eye. “Two?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, two,” Arthur confirms.

 

Merlin smiles. “Yeah, I think I could go for two.” Arthur's heart skips a beat. He's getting rather excited at the prospect of raising children with Merlin now that he knows it's an actual possibility. “Some day. With the right person,” Merlin adds, leaning in to run his nose over Arthur's. “With you.” Arthur kisses him in response.

 

_~*~_

 

“Thank you for coming,” Arthur says solemnly. Across from him, Merlin's leg is jumping and Merlin's hands are lying on his knees, artificially calm.

 

“Of course,” Merlin says. “Who else was gonna be your lab rat?” he jokes, but it sounds strained.

 

Arthur bites at the inside of his cheek. He doesn't know what Merlin is hoping for. He wishes he could know for sure that Merlin is hoping the prototype works, but he doesn't. All he knows is that Merlin is nervous, though that may be for a variety of reasons. He reaches out over the small table between them to take Merlin's hand.

 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

 

Merlin's face is a strange mix of affectionate and anxious. “I might hear your voice for the first time,” he says.

 

The thought has occurred to Arthur as well, that Merlin has never heard him and that this may be his chance. If that happens, he wonders if he will be what Merlin expects of him. “Is that what you're hoping for?” he asks.

 

“Maybe. I don't know,” Merlin replies honestly. “I don't know what I want to get out of this.”

 

“Well, hopefully, you will get a chance of hearing again and a choice of whether you want to,” Mithian says, leaning over Arthur's shoulder to put a small ear bud-like thing on the table. Arthur wishes he'd thought of that reply. “Now, it's only a prototype and we have had some issues with it,” Mithian continues, looking at Arthur apologetically, “so it might not work exactly as we're hoping.”

 

“I know,” Merlin replies, taking the ear bud from the table and inspecting it. “What do I do with it?” he asks, looking at Mithian.

 

“Um, you just put it in your ear and press the button on top.”

 

“Okay,” Merlin says, taking one last look at the object in his hand before doing as he's told.

 

There's no change in Merlin's expression, no choir of angels singing _Hallelujah_ , no fanfare. Just Merlin looking at Arthur and Arthur biting the inside of his cheek nervously. He wants this to work. Merlin raises his eyebrows.

 

Arthur clears his throat, buying time to gather some more courage before he asks, “Any change?”

 

His face still blank, Merlin says, “I'm still reading your lips, so...” Arthur's heart sinks. He'd been preparing for that, and everyone from Morgana to Gwen to Mithian warned him that the very reason there are tests is that things don't usually work on the first try, but he'd still gotten his hopes up and to have them be for nothing is a disappointing failure. “There's a, um,” Merlin starts. Arthur's head snaps up. “A kind of a buzzing sound? It's not constant,” he tries to explain.

 

“Oh, that's good!” Mithian says happily, writing down what Merlin is saying. Arthur fails to see what's so good about it. “Anything else?” she asks Merlin.

 

“No, that's, er. That's it,” Merlin says. He takes the earbud out of his ear and puts it back on the table. “I'll wait for you outside,” he tells Arthur before rushing out of the room. Arthur wants to follow immediately, but he's learnt to know when Merlin needs some time to himself.

 

“Our main problem is getting both _SoundFit_ and _ViviTouch_ to work when they're combined,” Mithian explains to Arthur matter-of-factly. “It appears that for some reason one of them is interfering with the other when they are in this particular form. Mr. Emrys's comments confirm that,” she says, scribbling furiously on her clipboard. “But that's good news! It means we know what to work on,” she reassures.

 

Arthur nods, only half-listening. His mind is already outside the room, with Merlin.

 

Mithian puts a hand on his shoulder. “We'll make it work, Mr. Pendragon,” she says. “That's all for now.” There's an awkward pause when they both realize that she just dismissed him from his own lab. Arthur decides not to bring it up and Mithian apparently decides to pretend that was a perfectly normal thing to happen. He stands up, straightens out his jacket and leaves with a mumbled goodbye.

 

Merlin is sitting by the door, twirling his thumbs around and staring at the wall in front of him. Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

Merlin startles. “Oh, hey. Done already?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for helping us,” Arthur says, sitting down next to Merlin.

 

“Sorry I couldn't tell you what you wanted to hear.”

 

“Sorry it didn't work.”

 

For the first time since they went into the lab, Merlin's face softens and he smiles a little. “It's not your fault.”

 

“But I was the one who involved _you_ ,” Arthur replies.

 

“It's okay, Arthur, really.”

 

“I only wanted to do this _for you_ ,” Arthur talks over him.

 

Merlin covers Arthur's mouth with his palm. “I know. And you've done more for me than you think. So I can probably cut you some slack on this one,” he says, smiling lopsidedly. Arthur can't resist smiling back when Merlin removes his hand. And just like that, the air between them shifts from serious to light-hearted again. Merlin stands up and pulls Arthur up by the hand. “For the record, you definitely need to rename that thing.”

 

“I don't see you coming up with anything,” Arthur mumbles, following Merlin towards the elevators.

 

“I don't even know what you said and I'm still sure you want to take it back,” Merlin sing-songs, pressing the button for down.

 

_~*~_

 

 

“I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with your professors seeing me naked,” Arthur says, moving around on the bed to find a less revealing position.

 

“Arthur!” Merlin whines when he looks up from his sketch. “It's a work on male nudes, you're not _supposed_ to be covered!”

 

“Well excuse me if I don't want my junk to end up splayed on some gallery wall,” Arthur grumbles, but he moves back to the position Merlin put him in anyway.

 

“I can make it bigger if you like,” Merlin says, biting the end of his pencil.

 

“Oh, ha, ha,” Arthur replies sarcastically. The position he's in is actually more comfortable than he'd expected. He realizes Merlin must have put some real thought into this. He has a few minutes to be grateful before Merlin reverts back to his 13-year-old self.

 

“Do you mind if I straighten your nose a bit?” he asks sweetly.

 

“There's nothing wrong with my nose!”

 

“I'm also gonna trim away a few pounds off you,” Merlin continues, totally ignoring Arthur.

 

“Oi!” Arthur shouts to no avail. He takes a pillow he's not using and throws it at Merlin's head. He narrowly misses.

 

“What are you doing!?” Merlin asks in a high-pitched voice that breaks off into laughter at the end. He picks the pillow up and throws it back to Arthur. “I'm trying to work here,” he says unconvincingly.

 

“You're ignoring me,” Arthur complains.

 

Merlin looks pointedly at his sketch. “I am hardly _ignoring_ you.”

 

“You know what I meant.”

 

“Sorry, didn't hear you,” Merlin says, his eyes glued to the sketch again. His head is shaking a little with quiet laughter that makes Arthur throw the same pillow again. This time he doesn't miss. A giggle escapes Merlin, but he doesn't look up. He also doesn't throw the pillow back.

 

The room is silent for a while, the sound of Merlin's pencil scratching over the paper the only thing Arthur can hear. Jackie joins him on the bed after a while, draping herself over his leg. Merlin huffs when he notices her. She seems to confuse his irritation with an invitation to play, her tail wagging as soon as she opens her eyes. She jumps off the bed and skips off, trying to climb into Merlin's lap.

 

“You two are out to get me,” Merlin complains, focusing on where Arthur's hand rests on his thigh. Arthur studies Merlin's face, feeling it's only fair that he watches Merlin as well. He notices the subtle change in Merlin's breathing, the way his fingers squeeze the pencil a little harder. “You moved your leg,” Merlin says, clearing his throat first.

 

“Sorry,” Arthur replies, purposefully moving his leg even further from where it originally was, putting himself on display even more. Merlin takes a deep, shaky breath. He studiously ignores Arthur's obvious attempts at distraction and lets his eyes trace over Arthur's arm.

 

Arthur follows the heated look Merlin gives him. He feels it almost like a touch against his skin. He inhales sharply. Merlin is focusing on his drawing like it's the only thing that matters, his bottom lip jutting out and his brows creased in concentration. His tongue darts out to trace over his lips, leaving them wet and shiny. Arthur's cock stirs, filling a little. Feeling playful, Arthur strokes it slowly up and back down, his palm dry and hot. He sucks in a noisy breath.

 

“That's very distracting, you know,” Merlin tells him, his voice a little gravelly. His pencil is resting against the paper motionless. Arthur just smiles, dragging out the next stroke up his cock, almost fully hard now. “Arthur,” Merlin warns. Arthur responds with an exaggerated moan. “Okay, then, if that's how you wanna play,” Merlin says, amused determination colouring his voice. He turns his head down to where Jackie is still patiently waiting for him to pay attention to her. “Go play with Arthur, Jacks,” Merlin says. “Go, go!”

 

To Arthur's horror, she obeys, jumping on the bed and knocking Arthur back to lick at his face. “What the— Unfair!” Arthur shouts, trying to fight her off. Merlin just laughs at him, picking his pencil up again.

 

 

_~*~_

 

Jackie almost knocks Arthur back when she runs into him to greet him. Arthur had never thought she'd grow to be as big as she is. Close behind her is Merlin, who's also taken to enthusiastic hellos recently. He barrels into Arthur, crowding him against the door and covering Arthur's mouth with his before Arthur has a chance to react.

 

“Hello to you too,” Arthur says when he's released by them both.

 

“Hi,” Merlin greets breathlessly. “You're early,” he says, taking Arthur's briefcase and putting it away without moving out of Arthur's arms. “Didn't you have that meeting about _ViberSound_?” he asks, making a face at the name again.

 

Arthur smiles widely. “I,” he announces happily, “am letting Mithian handle it.”

 

“Delegating? You? Wow, I'm proud,” Merlin says, pulling on the lapels of Arthur's jacket.

 

“Not just that,” Arthur corrects. “I am letting her take over the project entirely. I'm not gonna be overseeing it anymore.”

 

Merlin looks at him hopefully. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. I'm done with it. I'm done trying to fix you,” Arthur says, remembering all the arguments and discussions he's ever had with Merlin about this.

 

“Good. Because I don't need fixing,” Merlin returns with a grin.

 

Arthur schools his face into a serious expression. “Of course, you're perfect,” he says, fighting a smile.

 

“Damn right I am,” Merlin agrees, spinning them around so that Arthur is pressing him against the door. “Now let's celebrate that you finally figured that out,” Merlin suggests in his best seductive voice. Arthur thinks it's kind of pathetic that it still works on him, but it does. He holds Merlin by the waist and presses against him head to toe. Merlin moans quietly in his ear. “Congratulations on having such a great boyfriend,” he breathes. Arthur bites at his neck, surprising a yelp out of him.

 

_~*~_

 

Arthur watches his fingers dance over Merlin's spine. He bends over and kisses just above Merlin's shoulder blade. His hand slides under the sheets and rests at the swell of Merlin's ass. The naked skin is warm under his palm. Merlin hums into the pillow.

 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. Arthur smiles against Merlin's skin. Jackie stretches at the foot of the bed, pushing Arthur's legs further towards Merlin.

 

Arthur closes his eyes. His lips are barely touching Merlin's skin when he says it, without even thinking about it. It doesn't matter because Merlin can't hear him; it makes Arthur a little bolder.

 

“I love you.”

 

Merlin's shoulders ripple quickly. “That tickled,” he says, still not taking his head out of the pillow. Arthur rests his head on Merlin's back. He's drifting off to sleep when he hears Merlin say something. It may or may not sound like _I love you too_.

 

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> for more on the technologies that arthur's project in this fic is based on go [here](http://www.forbes.com/sites/jasonevangelho/2013/01/25/how-vivitouch-and-able-planets-haptic-gaming-technology-will-change-the-world/)
> 
> thank you for reading ^.^


End file.
